After the Night
by buttercups3
Summary: What happens after the mid-season finale. Ensemble piece, with particular focus on the relationship of Miles and Charlie (canon-based, not Marlie). Filled with adventure, fluff, filthy language, and talk of sexuality, so mind the T rating-it's possibly a strong T.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This story begins right where the mid-season finale leaves off. It'll go on for as long as I feel the muse._

_And I forgot to disclaim, darn it. It's like I'm a fanfic newbie. Disclaimer: Yeah, these characters are not mine, so that's what's what._

* * *

Machine gun fire peppered the ground, sending everyone scattering toward cover. Charlie grabbed hold of Danny's shirt and yanked him into the trees. She looked up to see her mother (God she was not used to that) and Nora running at her. No Miles again? And Aaron? Nora beckoned wildly for Charlie and Danny to keep moving, and it seemed they ran for the better part of 30 minutes. Finally they jumped into a deep depression in the ground and waited, their chests heaving.

"Where are they, Nora?" Charlie asked, refusing to address her mother, and instead talking to the woman who had acted far more like a mother to her in recent memory. She thought fondly of Nora tending to her head wound in Philly.

"Miles'll be here, Charlie," Nora said, her face set.

"And Aaron?-I'm going after them!" Charlie said impetuously, impulsively, and began to move. Nora grabbed her wrist and thrust her back into the dirt.

"No, you won't. I'm sure Miles is getting Aaron."

Rachel watched the two talking, attempting to suppress the rising feelings of jealousy. She had only met Nora once before, and given Nora's association with Miles, was not inclined to trust her.

The light was beginning to give way, and Nora began to look nervous. Danny was breathing far too hard-he was clearly fighting an impending asthma attack. Rachel drew her son into her arms, and he sat deadly, allowing the embrace but not welcoming it.

Suddenly, they heard footfall.

"God damn, you are heavy Aaron!" Miles said as he flung Aaron into the ditch. He had been supporting Aaron's weight, since Aaron was clearly peppered with bullets, mainly, it appeared, in his rear end.

Miles was breathing almost as heavily as Danny and collapsed, grasping his chest.

"We've…we've gotta get out of sight. Aaron and I noticed a kind of cave over that way," Miles wheezed. "Let's go. And someone help me with Aaron this time?"

They headed carefully toward the cave, Nora and Miles all but dragging Aaron. Once inside, Miles asked Charlie to build a fire, which she immediately set about doing. Danny lay in his mother's lap and drifted off with surprising but serendipitous rapidity.

"Ok, Aaron. Gotta get the bullets out," Miles said gruffly.

Aaron was on all fours in the corner, clearly in excruciating pain.

"Stand up and drop your pants," Miles suggested as calmly as if he were telling Aaron to pass the salt.

Aaron vocally objected, but Miles shook his head. "The bullets aren't that deep. We get them now, you get better. We leave them…well…" Miles finished ominously.

Aaron said to the women present, "Don't look."

Miles shook his head again. "No, Aaron. I'll get 'em out, but you're going to have to pick one of these pretty ladies to hold the candle for me. I can't see a damn thing in here."

Aaron looked desperately around at his companions. Finally, after deciding that Rachel was too close to him and Charlie too young, he picked, "Nora then."

"Good choice, buddy. Nora's seen it all before," Miles said tersely.

He was cleaning tweezers from Maggie's old kit with alcohol. Nora immediately came over and lit a candle. She placed her hand on Aaron's shoulder reassuringly. Charlie and Rachel tried to look politely away, but Charlie couldn't help but steal a glance now and then. There was nothing else to look at.

Finally, Aaron dropped his pants.

"Gonna have to spread 'em a bit, Aaron. Sorry," Miles said apologetically. Nora tried to look down as she held the candle, but Miles forcefully redirected her hand with a look that said, 'I don't care if this is uncomfortable-I need you to pay attention.'

Miles inspected the wounds. "Everything's still where it should be, Aaron," attempting to reassure him. He used his comforting voice-the one he used with fallen soldiers. He felt for Aaron; he really did. He washed the wounds with alcohol and began picking. Aaron gripped the wall but was quiet.

"Aaron, you need to try to relax a little. Don't lock your knees, or you'll pass out!" Nora warned.

"Relax? Miles is picking bullets out of my nads!" Aaron objected. "It's painful and humiliating!"

"Aaron, listen to me," Miles said, putting the back end of the tweezers in his mouth briefly to rewash Aaron's lower left buttock. He took the tweezers back out of his teeth and resumed picking. "This isn't embarrassing. I've been in much worse positions as a soldier. Trust me."

Nora smiled the faintest of smiles. "Oh yeah, Matheson? Like what?"

Miles grinned a little too, but kept working as quickly as possible. "Well, for one thing, I've shit my pants as a grown man probably more times than I did as a baby."

Charlie guffawed lightly and couldn't help but look at Miles. Upon seeing Aaron's full moon, she quickly averted her eyes again.

"When did you poop your pants, Miles?" she asked, realizing that Miles was graciously trying to distract Aaron from his agony.

"Christ, loads of times! Once when I was on campaign in Trenton with Monroe. I got shot in the gut-now that really hurts, Aaron. Avoid that. I was sitting there holding that wound for awhile before I realized I was sitting in shit. Monroe wanted to move me, and I told him: 'Don't think you should.' He insisted, 'I'm not leaving you to die!'"

Nora laughed. "So you were embarrassed instead of being worried about impending doom?"

"Yeah. I mean, weird stuff goes through your head when you're bleeding to death." Miles paused ponderously. "Anyway, I told Monroe: 'No, I mean, don't pick me up, or you'll get shit on you! I've crapped my pants.' And Monroe starts giggling uncontrollably like a school girl. He picks me up anyway, of course, and carries me to safety. When we get behind the lines Jeremy's there, looking all concerned about me, you know. Monroe puts me down and says, 'Man, you smell like shit.' And I look at him and say, 'I told you!' So Jeremy starts cracking up."

Nora shook her head.

"So then I tell them, 'I don't want my last God-damned act as general to be shitting my pants!' And they're kind of like, 'Oh man,' not knowing what to do. Finally, Jeremy (bless him, he's a nice kid) says, 'Do you want me to take your pants off for you?' totally straight-faced. I mean, I believe he would have done it! Hahaha!" Miles cackled drily.

Aaron winced in pain but was amused. The distraction was working.

"So…how did you survive that?" Charlie asked, glancing at her mother, who was smiling the tiniest amount humanly possible.

"Oh I dunno, Charlie, I blacked out. Doc saved me. You know. I got lucky."

There was a long pause, during which Aaron made small noises of suffering.

Finally, Charlie asked, "What were the other times you pooped your pants?" laughter still in her voice.

Miles sighed heavily. "Sorry kid, that was the only funny one." He paused and finally added, "The other times all happened when I was a prisoner of war in Afghanistan and spent four months chained in place, unable to move, for the most part."

Miles was looking at Aaron's rear very intently. Nora gazed carefully at Miles' face.

"So the funniest time you crapped yourself was when you almost died in Trenton?" Nora asked just to clarify.

"Yep," Miles said.

A beat and then Nora laughed uproariously. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know why that's so funny. Hahahaha!"

She kept laughing and tears started streaming down her face. Pretty soon they were all laughing, and Danny woke up confused. Even Aaron chimed in, as Miles was helping him pull up his tattered pants.

Miles put his hand on Aaron's shoulder. "You're gonna be ok, Aaron. But you'll probably want to sleep on your stomach tonight."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I'm not sure how quickly I'll be able to update, since I have two stories going at once, and things have been crazy at work. But I'll try! Thanks to those reading and reviewing. So I'll just come clean right now. My view on the Miles-Charlie relationship is that Charlie has a little harmless crush on her uncle, as sometimes happens when one is young. Nothing scandalous about it. Miles thinks of her only as his niece, but of course, she is very special to him. As Maggie promised, I believe he's very aware that Charlie is saving him and providing him with a means of redemption. _

* * *

Aaron had suffered a fitful night. He finally slept a few hours in the early morning, but first light immediately roused him. He looked around in the semi-darkness of the shallow cave to see Miles sitting at the entrance, his knees resting on his chin. Miles looked almost as tired as Aaron felt.

"Miles?" He whispered, wanting to sit by Miles but having to stand because of his wounds.

Miles looked up at him. "How's your ass, Aaron?"

Aaron rolled his eyes in annoyance, but just as he was about to sulk off to take a leak, Miles informed him, "I got you some new pants." The revelation raised Aaron's spirits ever so slightly. Miles tossed them at him.

"Can I take a look at your wounds?" Miles said in a more gentle tone.

Aaron shook his head a little in dismay. Miles' recent intimacy with Aaron's butt was the most action Aaron had seen since he left his wife all those years back. He was still reeling from hallucinating her in the underground. Despite his reluctance to comply with Miles' request, he briefly dropped trou. Miles nodded that he liked the healing he saw and waved Aaron on to do his business, after Aaron put on the new pants.

Nora suddenly emerged and sat next to Miles cross-legged. She briefly leaned her head on his shoulder as she yawned. He smiled a crooked, half smile down at her pretty face.

"So…I have to ask. Rachel said you saw Monroe. What happened?" Nora asked when her yawn was complete.

Miles looked down at his hands and straightened out his legs. "He's still alive. Sorry to disappoint."

"I figured you would have said something if you'd killed him…Couldn't do it again?" she prompted.

"You assume that I _could_ kill him even if I wanted to?" Miles asked. "That's a lot of confidence in me. Especially considering the fact that Monroe apparently has power now and can blow us all to hell. What, am I going to have a swordfight with a Blackhawk?" Miles was grousing to avoid the implications of her question. Nora simply stared at him patiently.

"You done with your speech?" she asked, a touch of derision creeping in her voice.

Miles rolled his eyes.

"So? What happened?" Nora followed up.

Miles leaned back, placing his head in his hands. "I…it was hard, seeing him again. I wasn't sure I could do it at first. He...he asked me to come back, Nora. And part of me had been dreading that question so much that when it happened, it surprised me."

"Surprised you?"

"Yeah, because instead of feeling conflicted, I felt one hundred percent certain that I never wanted to go back again. And looking into his eyes, I just…I didn't love him anymore. Bass is not in there anymore. He died somewhere along the way." Miles thought to himself, but _God damn, I miss the old Bass. I miss him so much, it hurts._

"You tell him that?"

"Basically. I said I had reconciled with my own family. I didn't need him anymore." Miles exhaled loudly.

"So Monroe is really pissed now. Psychotic and hurt by his best friend. Things are going to get really ugly," Nora sighed.

"Thing is," Miles began, ignoring the comment, "Rachel's alive. She's here. Once Charlie finds out how that came to be…she'll never forgive me. Never! And then…" Miles stared stoically off.

Nora knew this to be the universal sign that Miles was subduing painful emotion. She softly turned his head to make him look at her. "Hey," she said lightly. His face was even scruffier than usual and prickled her hand.

Miles put his own hand on Nora's cheek but stopped short before kissing her. She felt a pang of disappointment.

"Hey Charlie, wanna stop eavesdropping and get in on the action?" Miles called out behind him.

Charlie objected. "I wasn't…how could you tell I wasn't asleep?"

"You snore," Miles said promptly.

"I do not!" she insisted huffily.

"Charlie, it's been a long trip. I know the sounds of you sleeping. Don't worry, it's a very light, very lady-like snore," he assured her jovially.

Nora decided to help out Charlie. "Since you've hardly slept on this trip, Charlie wouldn't know it, but you talk in your sleep, Miles." Nora smiled viciously.

"What?" Miles lifted an eyebrow in disbelief. "Really? That can't be-no else's ever said anything."

Nora nodded. "It's true. Only when you're in really deep sleep, which, granted, is almost never."

"What do I say? Do I like give up military secrets or say, 'Oh baby, just like that?'" he asked with interest.

Charlie was giggling. Nora just shook her head to indicate she wasn't releasing this information without a fight.

Miles put a hand on the side of Nora's head and pushed her over. Charlie came over to join them, since the jig was up anyway.

"How's your head?" Miles asked as Charlie approached, genuine concern in his voice. He noticed that she no longer had much of a cut on her forehead.

"It's fine. So…I did overhear your conversation about Monroe. He's still alive and more mentally unstable than ever?" Charlie asked seriously, her eyes wide and blue in the morning light. "With all of those weapons at his disposal?"

Miles and Nora got up and dusted off their pants.

"In some ways, it may be better that Monroe _is_ still alive. If he dies, I bet you that Tom Neville ascends, his power hungry wife, Julia, at his side. After what I did to Tom last night, he won't stop until he feeds me my own balls," Miles informed them.

Miles shrugged when he saw Charlie's mouth drop open in horror. "Everyone's gotta go somehow," he added. He gave her arm a little punch, because the ridiculous expression continued unabated. She finally smiled.

Rachel and Danny were up and approached. Charlie's smile melted at the sight of her mother.

Charlie asked finally, "Is someone going to explain to me why my mother is still alive?" she put her hands on her hips, challenging Rachel and Miles with her eyes.

Aaron came panting up, saving the elder Mathesons. "We gotta go. I heard some kind of vehicle in the woods."

Miles launched into leadership mode. "Ok, let's go, let's go!"

"Where?" Rachel asked, an unwillingness inhabiting her voice.

"Somewhere we'll be safe enough to at least take time to regroup," Miles said.

Rachel walked up to Miles and looked accusingly in his face. "When we get there, you and me are going to have a chat." The words sounded menacing, and Miles ignored the tone. He signaled for everyone to follow him.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thank you to all readers, and in particular those posting thoughtful reviews. Though I will continue to write these silly stories no matter what, reviews do inspire me to put more time and effort into making higher quality work. So thank you. *Hat tip* This is not a light-hearted chapter but this storm too shall pass._

* * *

The travelers were heading east toward the water, following Miles' lead. Miles was trying not to get lost in his thoughts-he didn't want to ponder what was going to happen next. _They had Danny; the mission was over. Now what?_ He listened carefully to the sound of the wind through the trees, inhaled the wild smell of crushed leaves and wintergreen. Eventually, they came up on a dilapidated cabin in the woods. It looked desolate and lonely, like it hadn't been occupied by humans in hundreds of years. In some ways, Miles did feel like it had been a hundred years since the blackout. Like he was an ancient being, only without the acquired wisdom.

"Wait here," Miles signaled to the rest, but Nora was instantly on his shoulder. He nodded at her as they surreptitiously approached the cabin. They peered in the windows, and finally Miles kicked open the door, heart beating.

They inspected the one-story building and found nobody at home-no evidence of life. Finally Miles stuck his head out the front door, inviting the rest in with a terse, "It's safe." He shook his head at his own choice of words. Nothing was safe anymore.

The crew dropped their sparse belongings all over the floor.

Rachel didn't waste any time: "So we're here. Now you're coming with me, so we can talk."

Miles was helping Charlie to disentangle from her backpack and didn't look up at Rachel.

As Rachel gazed at Miles, a rush of bottomless heartache washed over her. _He looks like Ben, God damnit_. Part of her wanted to push his face away and never look at it again-never see in it the man she had loved-and the other part wanted to throw her arms around Miles' neck and grieve with him. Miles had finally met her eyes and the melancholy in them appeared to match her own.

Charlie stepped in between them. "Whatever you're going to say to each other, you're going to say it in front of us. We're all in this together. I'm sick of the secrets and the lies. I've had enough!" Charlie folded her arms in defiance.

Rachel saw Miles shake his head behind Charlie. He looked impressed, even admiring, at his niece's resolve.

Miles stepped forward and folded his own arms, meeting her challenge. "Ok, Charlie."

Charlie nodded, "And when you're done with your little conversation, someone is damn well going to tell me why you are alive, and why you were with Monroe in the first place…Rachel," she added, unable to say the word Mom. Her chest felt like a gaping wound, but she beat her emotions into submission and lifted her chin.

Miles flinched, but he stared at Rachel, waiting. Nora and Aaron started making a fire in the crusty old fireplace, squatting on their haunches.

Danny sat on the couch. "Good luck finding that out, Charlie. Mom wouldn't tell me anything," Danny mumbled in resignation.

Rachel swallowed hard and addressed Miles, "I need your help."

Miles lifted his eyebrows. It wasn't what he was expecting.

Rachel went on, "It's my fault Monroe has power-I built the machine that amplified the necklace. But there are other necklaces. We can fight fire with fire."

The room was silent and tense.

Charlie spoke up: "What are these necklaces? And why do you know about them?"

Rachel answered so quietly, she was almost inaudible. "I know about them, because I helped make them in the first place. It is my fault the power went out. I helped create this...dark, bleak world."

Charlie's eyes widened. She looked at her uncle for help, but Miles stared numbly out the window. She looked at Danny, who had risen from the couch and was standing beside her helpless. _Who were these people-her family? Had she come from pure evil?_

"I don't understand," Charlie said shakily after a time.

"Look, I can't explain it all now, but your dad and I, we were scientists." Rachel refused to implicate Ben in this more than she had to. Charlie had to be spared something. "I made a mistake, and this was the result," Rachel added.

"Dad? I thought he was an algebra teacher!" Danny interjected.

Miles scoffed audibly. "Who told you that, kid?"

"Dad did!" Danny cried defiantly and crossed his arms in hostility. He didn't know this man-his uncle. How dare he tell Danny about his own father.

Miles pursed his lips, seeing Danny's fury with him, and turned away to look out the window once more.

"Look kids," Rachel began.

"Stop calling us kids!" Danny erupted. "Can't you see we're not kids anymore, Mom? Just because when you ditched us, we were little…we've grown up! You've been away a long time. Look at Charlie, she's…she's had to kill so many people to get here!"

Charlie looked forlornly at her brother and took his hand. She addressed Rachel, "Tell us, what happened to you! Mom!" This time she extracted the familiar word from herself.

Miles and Rachel exchanged a glance, and he stepped forward. "I should explain, not your mother. It…it was me that asked her to surrender to Monroe."

"What?" Charlie's cry of betrayal sliced into Miles. She dropped Danny's hand and covered her mouth to stay her emotions. "What do you mean, Miles?" Her eyes were already filling with hot tears, she realized angrily. She cursed herself for always giving herself away to these people. These people who could witness all and never appear to feel.

Miles' face had softened at Charlie's obvious display of pain, but he continued. This had to be done. "Monroe had threatened to harm you kids. He knew your parents knew something about the blackout-they had called me and warned me right before it happened. And…" Miles exhaled. Should he tell Charlie about Monroe and Rachel? He decided it was too much of a burden to lay on Charlie. He wasn't omitting it to protect Rachel; he was doing it for Charlie. "Look, Monroe accepted Rachel as a prisoner, so that's what I arranged. I didn't want to, Charlie, but I had to. It was one of the last straws that convinced me I had to get out of the militia-get away from Monroe. But it took time. And when we were getting out-"

"We?" Charlie asked.

"Nora helped me get out, Charlie," Miles answered.

Charlie whipped around to look at Nora, accusingly. Nora the silent participant in all of this. Ire began to choke Charlie, whose tears were now slowly rolling down her cheeks. Nora looked down in shame.

"I was going to try to get Rachel out, but when I confronted Monroe, he said he'd already killed her…and" Miles shook his head lightly. He hadn't even checked. He'd almost wanted to believe it was true, he'd been so ashamed of his complicity in Rachel's imprisonment. "So we left without her."

Danny lunged forward slightly, and Charlie held him back. Was he planning on hitting Miles? She felt like she could punch both of them-Rachel and Miles. They together had ruined the world. So much blood on her family's hands, so much suffering. What had she done to deserve this?

Rachel was looking at Miles coldly. "There was another option, you know, Miles. When Monroe threatened our family, _our_ family, you could have gotten out right then and there. Come to us; warned us. We would have taken you back. We could have gotten away together."

Miles was totally deflated, his shoulders slumped. He considered Rachel's words in silence, and then addressed only Charlie. "Now you know. And you can hate me, Charlie, you can rage at me…but what can I do? What's done is done. I'm sorry. But I know that being sorry is not enough." He started to walk toward the front door, mainly because he felt tears rising in his own eyes and couldn't bear the thought of everyone seeing him cry.

"Coward!" Charlie shouted at him. "Coward! Coward! Coward!" She said it again and again, each word sticking into him like a poison arrow.

That word, he thought and stopped. That was the word he had most dreaded in the world. And now that she had called him it, he felt eerily calm. He welcomed it even. At the same time he felt a coldness settle into his chest-a sense of inevitability.

Charlie wasn't finished with him. "Don't you walk away from me! You always walk away. You did it to Nora. She told me-you walked out on her, and then she lost a baby, and you didn't even care!" The words were tumbling out of Charlie, and she didn't care whom she was hurting. All of these people, they deserved to suffer together. That's what they did-inflict anguish on everyone they came into contact with.

Miles eyes shot wildly to Nora, who dropped her head again and refused to return his gaze.

"What?" he demanded wildly, blood and rage rising. "What did you say?" He lunged with hostility toward Charlie, and Rachel got in his path, acting as if he were intending to hurt Charlie. He wasn't, it had been a reflex. Rachel's assumption just made him more incensed. As if he would lay a hand on Charlie.

"Nora!" he practically growled, looking past his niece toward her. "Nora, look at me!"

When Nora raised her eyes to meet Miles', he saw that she was shattered. They had a silent conversation. _Was it mine?_ his eyes asked. _It was_, hers answered.

Charlie watched this transpire, and finally spoke back up in a collected voice, her tears stayed. "Miles, if you walk out that door, I swear it-don't come back. Do not come back."

Miles swallowed, stifling his own emotions as much as he could manage. His eyes burned.

Nora spoke up at last, "Charlie, just let him go." She saw now that Miles was fighting tears, and as absurd as it sounded, part of her feared that if the others saw Miles fall apart, things would really go to shit. Especially Charlie: Miles was her seam in this great tapestry of madness and agony. But maybe it _was_ time to point out what Nora knew. What she had discovered late at night, holding this great and terrible man in her arms for many years, building a fragile and finally untenable life together. "He's just a human, Charlie," Nora.

Charlie stared only at Miles. Miles took a deep breath to compose himself and looked into Charlie's eyes.

"Miles…" Charlie trembled. "I just have to know. Did you do everything you could to get my mother out?"

Miles' eyes shimmered. He couldn't lie to her. Her eyes were so wide and innocent. Despite the vortex of iniquity he'd involved her in, she was still so good. So pure. She deserved the truth, and so it came.

"No. I… I could have left when Monroe targeted my own family. Rachel's right. But I didn't because…" he had never let himself admit this before. "Because I was selfish. I wasn't ready to give it up-the power, my friendship with Bass. I couldn't give it up."

"You destroyed my family," Charlie responded. She was torn asunder by confliction over this man. The emotion was more painful than the bullet that had grazed her head.

"I did," he agreed. "But…Rachel's right." He turned to Rachel whose lips quivered almost imperceptibly. Miles realized as he looked at her that he suddenly felt less alone. And then he realized why. "Rachel and I have fucked things up to high heaven. So I, for one, am willing to die setting them right. We get the pendants, Rachel, and we fight whatever war follows."

Danny looked at Charlie for leadership. He was going to stick with his sister. None of these adults could be trusted.

Charlie gazed briefly at her brother, and then her eyes locked with her mother's. She couldn't look at Miles anymore. It hurt too much. At this moment, she hated them all-Rachel, Miles, Nora, even Aaron, who sat there dumbly, doing nothing.

Charlie shattered the silence with one final, bitter truth. "I didn't ask to be part of this family. This family who's done terrible, unspeakable things. I hate you for it, I do. But we're going to redeem the Matheson name together. For dad." She took Danny's hand once more.

Rachel made a tiny sound of pain.

"For Ben," Miles agreed.

Charlie shot him a withering glance that informed him there would be no emotional reconciliation, only cooperation. "Where do we start?"


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: So trusty readers, at first I was going to make this story internally consistent with my other story. But if you are reading both (thank you squared!), I've decided to try out a bit of a different hypothesis on the Rachel storyline. I've been having a bit of a crush on her this week in her zipper-bedazzled black pants. It's all fun and games, guessing where the show will take her (until someone gets hurt)! So this part from chapter 3 is going to get really twisted. "Should he tell Charlie about Monroe and Rachel? He decided it was too much of a burden to lay on Charlie. He wasn't omitting it to protect Rachel; he was doing it for Charlie." All will not be addressed in this chapter, but soon, soon it will._

_ Also your reviews were very, very lovely on this last chapter. Thank you thank you! You make me want to come home from a day of writing…and write. xo_

* * *

Rachel had put the group on course to the southeastern border of the Monroe Republic. They had learned through Nora's rebel connections that a former collaborator of Rachel's who had joined the rebel movement was serving time in a Georgia Federation prison. This was geographically their closest shot at a pendant, but it also seemed unlikely the pendant would be there unscathed given the circumstances.

"What do we need to know about Georgia, Miles?" Rachel asked Miles as she tried to catch up with him.

Miles had been speeding along ahead of the group, avoiding them. They had talked too much, and now he was knee deep in shitsville. He needed to talk to Nora most of all, but he found that he was pissed at her. Pissed that she hadn't bothered to tell him about the pregnancy-that she had let him walk away and abandon her…and his child. Maybe she'd let him leave, because she'd realized what a wretched parent he'd have made.

It appeared Rachel was the only person not too incensed with Miles to initiate a conversation. _The irony_, Miles thought. Imprisoning her away from her family for years while she endured…what torture? rape? who knew. And that was the least amount of harm he'd done lately? Besides, seeing Rachel again was filling him with perplexing emotions: guilt? bereavement for Ben? and this last one was unmistakable and most confusing: tenderness.

Miles glanced at Rachel as she appeared at his side.

"Getting across the border won't be easy. Neeed to stop and get supplies," Miles mumbled, hoping she wouldn't inquire further.

"Supplies?" Rachel said incredulously, panting a little at his rapid pace.

"Yep, we're gonna raid a militia armory on the way; also get Nora stuff to make bombs. If we can make it through the Georgia check point without having to blow it, we'll be lucky. Then we'll probably have to bomb the prison, if your friend's even still there."

Rachel nodded. Then she stopped and rubbed her face. "That sounds impossible." Miles finally stopped too.

Aaron, who had joined them said, "Yeah, but Miles always seems to pull it off."

Miles glanced at Aaron semi-quizzically. "Aaron, I'm touched. I pick a few bullets out of your balls, and now we're friends?"

Aaron pursed his lips. "Go to hell, Miles," he muttered. Every time Aaron came close to warming up to his traveling companion, Miles had a way of getting back under his skin. He didn't know why Miles had to be so damn mean.

"So where do we find the supplies?" Rachel asked.

Miles nodded toward a collection of bucolic, overgrown buildings on the horizon. An old church steeple punctuated the town. "There-we'll get what Nora needs first. The arsenal's on the outskirts-close to the border. Because of its strategic importance, there will be militia crawling all over this place. We'll use this barn-thing - shed? Whatever the hell this is, as our home base," he said advancing upon a small structure that appeared abandoned. It contained old tires, pitchforks, and an untold quantity of rat droppings.

Aaron grumbled, "Awesome."

"Nora!" Miles called sharply. "Shall we?"

Nora looked at Miles, feeling mightily drained. She knew she was going to have relive with him the pain of losing their child, and she wanted to put that off as long as possible.

"I'm coming," Charlie said instantly, the first thing she had said in nearly a day.

"Me too!" Danny chimed in.

"Look, we can't all go," Miles said. "We're too much of a target."

"Then you stay for once," Charlie said, allowing a touch of haughtiness to creep into her voice. "We'll go with Nora. Frankly, I could use a break from all of you," she added under her breath.

Miles stood there like he'd been smacked. Charlie wouldn't even look at him.

"Fine. I could use a nap," Miles said at last. "If you're not back in one hour, we'll come after you."

After the three youngest of the group departed, Miles lay down, his head on his bedroll. He felt like a cement boot was pressing down on his chest. He wanted so desperately to be left alone. The pain of his discovery about Nora felt was spreading through his veins once more, sickening him.

Rachel stared down at him. "Did you see Ben before he died?" she asked suddenly, probably the worst thing she could have said to Miles.

Miles glanced at her wearily. "No." He turned over on his side, trying to get away from the sound of her voice.

"Monroe took all of my things, including my wedding ring. I don't have anything left of him," Rachel said deadly.

Aaron gazed at his old friend with acute sympathy. What he wouldn't do to exchange Miles for Ben. And yet, well, truth be told, he probably wouldn't still be alive if it weren't for Miles.

Miles stared straight ahead, lying on his side for so long, that Rachel gave up and went over to sit by Aaron against the wall. Without a word, Miles finally rose and began rooting through the pocket of his jacket. He sank down next to Rachel.

"Here," he said simply and handed her an old, crumpled photograph. "You keep it."

It took Rachel a moment to focus on it, but she recognized it instantly. A picture of Rachel, radiantly pleased in a white dress, standing in between Ben and Miles, both smiling in tuxedos. Their wedding.

"Oh. Look at us. We were so young," Rachel's voice quavered. As she gave herself to the familiarity of the photo she realized how sad the photographed Miles' eyes were even then, even in the midst of his eternal grin.

Miles nodded next to her, and all at once, without warning he was grieving. His eyes were hot with tears, which despite his best efforts to control, appeared stuck in his eyes. Tears began to stream down Rachel's face, her lips quivering as she, too, fought to regain her composure. Aaron quickly grew embarrassed and made to give them privacy, but Rachel stayed his arm.

"It's ok, Aaron," she managed to get out. "It's ok."

When Miles could speak again, he said, "Do you remember how drunk Ben got by the end of that night? He never drank much, but man. I thought I was going to have to carry him to the hotel for you. He got belligerent with that poor bartender for talking with you about a blow job!" Miles laughed hoarsely and then coughed. "But your bridesmaids had just dared you to drink one of those nasty, girly shots. Christ!"

"Girly? I object. A blow job: it's got Bailey's and Kahula and whipped cream. God that _is_ disgusting. But what I wouldn't do for any of those things right now!"Rachel was laughing and sobbing alternately, and even Aaron began to wipe his eyes.

"Ben got into a fight over a cocktail? I can't imagine it!" Aaron said.

"Nah, he didn't throw a punch or anything. Ben…he never hurt a fly." Miles looked down. _Or he created the circumstances in which millions of people died in a catastrophic blackout._ There was still so much to find out from Rachel on that front.

But Miles continued, "When Ben was little, maybe 7 or 8? He read about Jainism-I think that's what it's called-you know that religion where people wear a veil so they don't accidently kill anything? So he insisted on being a vegetarian and not wearing leather shoes. Mom wouldn't let him wear a veil though. She thought he'd get his ass kicked at school. I was such a dick to him-I kept burning ants with my magnifying glass that summer to spite him."

Rachel laughed a little harder and sniffed. "You're such an ass, Miles."

Miles nodded. "He got over that phase pretty quick. It was for the best."

There was a long pause in which the three pondered silently the man they'd loved and lost.

"Rachel…s'good see you again," Miles finally said earnestly.

Rachel put her arms around Miles and hugged him hard. Miles grabbed on right back, and Aaron, who was facing Miles' face, could see his eyes were still red. Miles whispered into Rachel's long, blonde hair, "Sorry."

Rachel pulled back and held Miles' scruffy face in her hands for a brief moment. "I forgive you, Miles. I don't know why, but I do."

Nora and the young Mathesons had returned to watch this last exchange from the doorway. Frankly, Nora was surprised. She had never seen Miles interact with anyone that affectionately…except her. She felt a sharp twinge of jealousy and realized that she was not sure how she felt about Rachel being back in Miles' life. She knew they were just brother- and sister-in-law, nothing more. Miles had told her it was Monroe that had possibly harbored a crush on Rachel, but still…Rachel had known Miles so much longer than Nora had. She didn't like the feeling that Rachel might understand Miles in ways she didn't. She felt foolish that she was jealous, which made her even angrier at Miles.

Danny spoke up, "We got the stuff to make bombs…if anyone cares," he mumbled the last part a bit sullenly.

Charlie was thinking long and hard about her experience in town just now. They had split up to gather supplies, and alone on a back street, she had suddenly been grabbed by an invisible hand. It had been 'Nate.'

_He pressed his finger to her lips and said, "I'm not here on assignment. I'm here because…I want to protect you."_

_"What?" Charlie hissed. "Did you desert?"_

_"As far as anyone knows, I'm still recovering at home from my injuries," he replied. And then Charlie realized that he did look worse for the wear._

_"What injuries?"_

_"It doesn't matter Charlie. I'm here to help, but you have to keep it a secret."_

_"Why on earth would I trust you…I don't even know your name. You gave up the necklace to Monroe. So much of this is your fault!" Charlie spat._

_Nate leaned in and kissed Charlie fully on the lips, running his hand over her back. He finally broke away. "My name is Jason. And I have a beef with Monroe. Trust me on that."_

_"Then why not desert like Miles did?"_

_"I just…I can't. I can't leave my family. I can't explain that, but I've saved you before. You know I have. I'll be here if you need me. That's a promise."_

_Charlie was breathless from their kiss. After the raw emotion of the past few days-the abject disappointment she felt in her uncle, the fury toward her mother-she just wanted to give into this man, to rest in his strong arms. But she sighed heavily and walked away. Jason let her go._

Standing back in the shed, having just seen her mother and uncle reconcile, she longed for Jason's touch again. She wanted to get in between Rachel and Miles allow them to embrace her like a child. But they had torn her apart, and she wasn't ready to forgive them. Danny was watching her face and put his hand on her shoulder in comfort.

"Charlie?" he asked seriously.

"Time to make some bombs," Charlie replied.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thanks to all readers and reviewers, you guys are funny, sweet, sassy, and very flattering! But a special shout out to dareyoutoread for a fantastically useful assessment of Danny that has helped immeasurably in my conception of him. It will come into play in the next chapter when I give ole Daniel a go. Ensemble pieces are exhausting but fun! Especially with all of your support._

* * *

Rachel and Aaron offered to go drum up a meal, while the rest stayed behind to assist Nora in her craft. Watching her lay out the bomb-making materials was like observing an animal in its natural habitat…or at least so Miles thought with an admiring glance.

"Ready, Miles?" Nora asked, throwing some rope his way to make fuses.

"Just like old times," he responded.

Charlie raised an eyebrow curiously. "What do you mean?"

Nora smiled lightly, directing Charlie and Danny with her hands to make cylinders from the paper they had gathered. "After Miles left the militia, we had to make a living somehow. We were contract bombers. We worked for anyone who would have us-some very shady characters. We blew up a lot of stuff."

Danny looked at Miles who was twisting rope pensively in his lap, his legs splayed out to each side, his back against the wall. "So you worked for Nora, Uncle Miles? You don't seem like a guy who likes being under someone else's command."

Miles grinned, "Yeah, it's true. She ordered me around, and I did what she said. Some women, you don't say no to." He glanced at Charlie. "Good times…" Miles trailed off, thinking about how swiftly and bitterly it had all ended.

Charlie was irritated at the direction this conversation had gone. "You had fun blowing up people?"

Both Miles and Nora looked guiltily back down at their work. Nora was shoving black powder into the rolls of paper. There was an interminable silence, during which the sun sank into the small, square window of the squalid shed, flooding it with pale, amber light. Finally Miles spoke again.

"Nora? Do you have something you'd like to say…to my dick?" he snickered.

"Excuse me?" Nora cried indignantly.

Charlie blushed as she vocally objected to her uncle's crassness. "Hey, innocent ears here!" she said, reaching to put her hands over the sides of Danny's face.

Danny wriggled away and said, "No it's true. Nora clearly glanced to the pants." He snorted.

"More like ogled them," Miles suggested, twisting more rope nonchalantly.

Now Nora's cheeks were burning. "Well maybe if you didn't sit with your legs so far open and wear such tight pants!" she insisted, and Miles laughed.

He put up his hands in apology. "I'm sorry, it's difficult to sit like a lady while making bombs."

Nora shook her head, and everyone went back to work. When the Matheson kids were distracted, she sneaked a glance at Miles, who winked back at her. Rachel and Aaron finally reappeared with food they had gathered in town: loaves of crusty bread, carrots dangling from green plumes, and mystery meat. Everyone knew better than to ask what _that_ was.

After dinner, Nora got up and headed toward the door. "I'll be back," she said vaguely.

"Yeah, me too," Miles said, making to follow her.

"Hey, where are you going!" Charlie insisted, immediately worrying about their safety.

Before Miles could even get the words out, Charlie regretted asking. His usual response to this type of inquiry was snide, something along the lines of: 'to take a crap; wanna come?' This answer was certainly no better. He said, "I was thinking about banging Nora out back behind the shed…" Then he shrugged innocently.

Same old Miles, Charlie thought, vaguely scandalized. But as much as she hated to admit it, she felt a pang of jealousy. She quickly turned her thoughts to Nate…no, Jason. And wondered what it would be like to have sex behind the shed. It was something she'd never experienced.

Her mother was protesting, "Miles, really. Not in front of my children."

Nora quipped, "Yeah, Miles. I would watch my mouth. I made a lot of bombs today, and I don't think anyone here would be too sad if I put one to good use on you."

Danny snickered. He found that he liked Nora.

Miles and Nora disappeared out the door. Once in the darkness, Nora kept walking right past Miles, as if he were invisible.

"Nora!" Miles said stopping her by the arm. She shook him off lightly.

"Oh you really think you're getting lucky, Matheson? Because of your sweet talking?" she protested. "You'll have to go screw yourself behind the shed; _I_ am going to pee. Maybe you could stop thinking with your dick long enough to actually give a fuck about how I might feel right now." Nora was suddenly very angry, all of the lightness of earlier dissipating. She was almost as mad at Miles as she had been when he'd abandoned her three months pregnant.

Miles looked at her carefully. "Well go take your piss then. I'll be here." He sat on a flat rock and stared at the woods.

Once alone in a dell, squatting, Nora felt searing tears flood her eyes. When she was finished she sat down and drew her knees up to her chin, her back heaving, giving in to despondency. No matter how long she sat, she couldn't stop crying. She had grieved so many times for the child she had lost that she didn't know why she was suffering it all over again now. Because Miles knew? She had wanted him to know for so long, and now that he did, he hadn't responded the way she'd envisioned. It had been so anticlimactic-just lumped in with everything else. In fact, everything else was so fucked up that this was barely a blip on the radar.

She jumped when she felt a gentle hand on her back.

"Hey," Miles said almost imperceptibly. "That was an awfully long pee, Babe."

The familiar nickname sent a fresh wave of anguish to her chest. Last time he had called her that they had been sleeping together.

She pulled away.

Miles was very distressed by the rare sight of Nora crying. It always made him feel helpless and somehow cruel. Miles said after a pause: "I don't know how to make this right."

Nora glared up at him, tears making viscous tracks down her cheeks. "Make it right? You asshole! You can't make it right. You can say _something_ though! You can explain yourself. You can explain why you cared so little for what we had together that you threw it away in a second and instantly went and fucked someone else."

Miles sank down into the dirt behind Nora, holding onto her small, resistant body with a manly force. She fought mightily to withstand the urge to sink down into him and allow him to comfort her.

"I left because…" Miles thought very carefully about how to phrase this. He wanted her to understand. "When I deserted the militia, all I had was you. You became my world, and if something happened to you, what would I have done?"

"So you _are_ a coward, like Charlie said."

Miles flinched. "Nora, you didn't even give me the chance to know what I had lost."

"So I wasn't enough to stay for?"

"That's not what I…"

"Look Miles. I can't help myself. I still love you. With your stupid, sexy swashbuckling, your low-slung belt, your two-day-old shave, that God-damned smell: like ash and sweat and outside. I can't resist it. Yes, I checked out your dick earlier. But that doesn't mean I forgive you. I don't. I can't tell you what it was like to have our baby die inside of me. Part of me died too. That's a part that doesn't come back. Even if you had apologized. Which you haven't."

Miles slowly released her.

"So you're not getting lucky tonight, despite your romantic overtures about taking me out back to fuck me like a farm animal. You're going to leave me here to cry alone in this fucking pit, just like you always do. And tomorrow, I'll blow shit up for you and your family. Because… why? Why am I still here, Miles? I can't let go of you. I hate myself for it, but I can't stop it. I should be fighting with the rebels. That's where I belong."

Miles backed away and got up to leave.

"I am sorry," he said quietly over his shoulder. "You're here because I needed you. I made you come. I needed you so much that I forced Charlie to risk her life for you. Twice. Because I'm still that selfish son of a bitch, just like you said." He swallowed and left.


	6. Chapter 6

Danny lay outside in the dewy grass next to Charlie, as the two peered at the rising sun. They had abandoned the shed, when Charlie had grown tired of listening to the rats, imagining them scampering over her feet and tangling into her long hair. Charlie turned and grinned at her brother. It was almost surreal to have him near again. Aside from the comfort emanating from Danny, her insides were in tremendous turmoil. She was pondering the strange new men in her life-Miles and Jason-suddenly so prominent, so suffocating. Equal parts wonderful and terrifying. Her father Ben had always been an unchanging source of placidity and reassurance in her life, but with Miles, she never knew when he'd lash out, fall into a fit of sullenness, or act so magnificently brave and caring that it made her heart hurt.

And now…Jason. A warmth washed over her lower body. That was a different feeling. Sure she had had crushes before, but this was a real, live man, with strong shoulders and soft, inviting lips. She wished she had someone to talk to about her feelings. She thought briefly of Nora, then her mother, but realized (and this was very strange) that she actually wanted to talk to Miles. More than anyone else in recent memory, Charlie had watched Miles love raw and openly even though he hadn't put a voice to his feelings. Sure Maggie and her father had developed a caring adult relationship, but she had walled them off to protect herself from her feelings of loss over her mother. But Miles, he'd sacrificed, he'd been vulnerable, he'd ached, he'd made out, all in front of Charlie, all for Nora. Miles didn't say much; he simply did. She wanted to be that way with Jason. Despite everything with her uncle, she admired him.

As Danny lay there, he felt lost, like his body was sinking into the wetness of the grass. He was relieved to be away from the militia, which had shocked him with their barbarity. It deeply unsettled him that his uncle had been the militia's architect. Yet there was something that intrigued Danny about their structure, their sense of purpose. They had defined paths and clear roles even as youngsters. He was tired of everyone viewing him as a dumb kid, tired of everyone telling him what to do. No one ever asked him what he _wanted_ to do. Maybe that's because too often he felt at sea in the mad world he'd discovered since leaving his village.

Rachel, Nora, Aaron, and Miles came out into the new morning. Miles nodded at Charlie, "Let's get going."

Charlie popped up without hesitation, but Danny lingered a bit longer.

"Waiting for a personal invitation, Danny? Let's go!" Miles added, dealing with his own mix of apprehension about the difficulty of their mission and sexual frustration from last night.

Danny's irritation at his uncle was growing by the moment. Miles cared for Charlie, that much was clear, but he didn't seem interested in getting to know Danny-only bossing him around. Danny couldn't fathom why Charlie seemed so attached to him.

Miles and Charlie walked side by side at the head of the group.

"Hey kid. How are you?" Miles asked, not knowing where to begin with her. She had been so angry with him, and he was operating from a vague sense of needing to patch things up with her.

Charlie didn't feel like talking about her feelings toward her uncle, but she did want to talk about Jason. She knew, however, if Miles found out Jason was tailing them again, he might kill him. Literally.

Charlie quickened her pace, and Miles patiently kept up. Once they had put some distance between themselves and the others she asked, "Miles…how did you first know that you loved Nora?"

Miles shook his head in mild shock. "Wha?" Charlie had a way of catching him completely off guard unlike anyone he'd ever met.

Charlie waited silently for him to catch up to her train of thought.

"Um…love? Or you mean sex?" Miles swallowed. He was genuinely confused about the direction of this conversation. He scratched his whiskers wistfully.

Charlie glared at him. But when she thought about it, he was right. She barely knew Jason. This was about: "Attraction, I guess. How do you…oh hell," she cursed, sounding a good bit like her uncle. "I don't even know what I'm asking."

Suddenly Miles stopped and held her at arm's length. He inspected her carefully and then crossed his arms in swift and livid realization. "That militia kid. You're thinking about him again. Charlie do you not see how much trouble he got us into? That it's partially because of him we're in this mess?" Miles growled. His black eyes flashed.

"Miles, let it rest. What does it matter now? I'm just asking. If you don't want to talk about it, say so. But don't attack me for having feelings."

Miles' face softened, and they resumed walking. Charlie appeared to have aged 10 years on their journey together, Miles reflected. After a long pause, Miles said, "I lost it over Nora the first time I saw her. It sounds…stupid really, but she makes me stupid. She always has." Miles glanced back briefly at Nora's athletic figure and felt a rush of emotion just like the first time.

"So, I mean, I assume you've known a lot of women, but something was different about her?" Charlie asked, blushing at the implication.

Miles smiled and arched an eyebrow. "Yeah, Charlie. I've 'known' my fair share of women. But Nora's definitely different. She amazes me."

Charlie nodded satisfied. Somehow this had been just what she needed to hear.

They had reached an old warehouse on the edge of town, but suspiciously, there were no militia in the area at all. The warehouse looked overgrown and barren.

Miles said, "Damn. This is where the weapons' stash used to be. They must have moved it. Probably because of the rebels. Your rebels," Miles grumbled at Nora as she appeared next to them. Nora shot him a withering glance, which made Miles regret his comment instantly. This wasn't Nora's fault.

"Well?" Rachel asked expectantly, hands on her hips. "Now what?"

Miles suddenly felt defeated and slumped his shoulders. This was partly why he'd left the militia: to avoid making decisions on behalf everyone all the time, which inevitably led to people getting hurt and dying. People he cared about. He kicked a rock in frustration. Then he looked up and saw everyone staring, and this only made him angrier. He desperately wanted someone else to make a choice for once. But this was being a general, a job he'd tried so hard to leave behind. He'd said it over and over to his militia cadre for moments just like this: leadership is giving when you have nothing left to give. Don't let your soldiers see you give up, not even for a second.

Miles cleared his throat and stood up straighter. "We'll have to get weapons off the Georgian border guards. Damn, I hate those bastards. They play dirty." Miles listened to himself and thought-well they're not _your_ enemy anymore, your own God-damned militia is. Your best friend is.

Miles put his hands on his hips and spoke to Nora as if no one else was there, considerably irking Danny for the umpteenth time that day. "If we blow the border patrol, we'll cause a major commotion. If we manage to stay out of sight, it's likely the Georgians will blame our-I mean _Monroe's_-militia. They'll assume they're under attack. We can use that to our advantage as a diversion for our prison bust." He finally turned to the rest of the group. "Look, it doesn't make sense for all of us to cross the border. It's too dangerous, and we'll need cover for getting back into the Republic. Nora and I will go-"

"And me," Rachel spoke up. Miles nodded-it made sense. It was Rachel's friend they were springing.

Charlie looked like she was about to protest, but Danny spoke up: "No, Charlie. We should stay." He was mainly indulging his urge to retreat from his uncle, but he also wanted to feel like he had some control over his destiny for once.

Miles continued, "Unfortunately, this kind of assault is best left to cover of darkness. We should attack after 0200, when the guards are tired, maybe even falling asleep on their shift, if we're lucky."

Charlie pulled Miles aside by his shirt sleeve, which he indulged. "Miles, this is really dangerous, right? I mean, I couldn't handle losing you and Mom both at once." Her blue eyes were bright. Charlie hadn't even reconciled with her mother yet.

Miles never knew what to say when Charlie got like this. Civilians didn't seem to understand, so much of combat was simply left up to chance. A lighthouse turns on after 15 years of no power, for instance, providing a reversal of fortune. Sure it was likely that they'd die, but it always was. Some soldiers came back from missions and others didn't. Those who were alive carried on. They had to.

Miles responded blandly, "Yeah, we're assaulting two fixed positions with armed guards-the first armed only with blades and bombs. Odds are not in our favor."

"You should take Nate…I mean, Jason with you," Charlie suggested impulsively.

"Who? What!" Miles exclaimed, reality immediately dawning on him. "You have to be friggin' kidding me, Charlie! So that bastard _is_ here. God damn it-come out, so I can kill you once and for all!" he began yelling at the trees, spreading his arms wide, looking totally off his nut to the rest of the group.

"Miles, stop. He's not _here_, but he's in town. You need help. You need trained soldiers," Charlie went on trying to calm her uncle by pulling down his arms.

Miles was visibly shaking with anger. "Charlie! How am I supposed to trust you when you keep bringing him around? You said his name is Jason?…aw hell, fucking hell! I know who he is, Charlie. He's got to be! Jason Neville. He's got Julia's cheekbones and Tom's eyes! I hadn't seen him since he was just a kid."

Charlie started at this revelation. She briefly pondered Jason's words about not being ready to leave his family. Neville was his family? She felt betrayed.

"You've gotta stay away from him. Tom is dangerous, do you hear me? More dangerous than Monroe in some ways." Miles' temper could be frightening, and Charlie felt herself shrinking away under it. Her shoulders slumped.

Danny got in between the two of them. "Leave my sister alone! You're a bully, Miles. Stop telling everyone what to do!"

Miles' eyes widened at Danny's intervention, and Rachel looked as though she was about to get involved.

Aaron finally said: "Enough! All of you. There are a lot of people here, and we're all mad at each other. I get it! But we've got to get this pendant, and even though I don't like it, one of us here was the general of the whole damn Monroe Militia and actually knows how to fight Georgians. And yes, Danny, Miles _is_ a dick!" he turned to address the youngster, whose cheeks were aflame with ire. "He orders us around all the time, and I've wanted to push him off a cliff more than once on this trip. But…I mean, he's also like a superhero. It's insane! He saves us every time. So I vote we do what he says, and maybe we'll get out of this situation alive, too."

Miles hated to admit it, but he was really starting to like Aaron on this leg of the journey. At the same time, that kind of confidence inspired instant shame in Miles. Thousands of people had died under his watch. He was no superhero.


	7. Chapter 7

Hours later they were scoping out the Georgia border from a distance. The ground was lined with a formidable bundle of barbed wire, and they could see the small post from which the Georgian patrol operated. It wasn't crawling with as many soldiers as Miles would have guessed. This must have ceased to be a heavy traffic area, Miles explained to the group; hence the removal of the Monroe Militia arsenal. The weary travelers might have actually caught a break this time. But he warned everyone not to get complacent.

Nora said, "I'm going to get closer and check out where I might be able to rig a bomb or two to get us through."

She slid down the ridge they were kneeling atop to crouch in the bushes of the foreground, her tank top and vest traveling up her lower back to reveal creamy brown skin. Miles stared and his frustration instantly returned, this time concentrated solely below the belt. He was next to Charlie and decided to leave before the situation became awkward. Miles skimmed down the hill to join Nora.

"Hey," she whispered when he got there. "What?" she was puzzled by his sudden appearance.

"Nothing, I…what do you see?" Miles tried to adjust himself as subtly as possible, as Nora glanced at him with a disapproving look.

"I didn't realize how much I'd wrecked you last night, Matheson," she said drily with a slight roll of her eyes.

"Well, it's been a long trip. Not like I've gotten a lot of solo rack time," Miles grumbled.

"Anyway, now that you're here, I was thinking of putting the bombs over there to draw the guards out toward us, so you can get around behind." She gestured the proposed movements with a lean, brown arm, which Miles watched with overly rapt interest.

"Mm-hm. I like it," he responded.

"You placating me?" she squinted at him, noticing that she did not have his full attention.

"It's a good plan," he snapped irritably.

Nora started to get up to return to the group, but Miles pulled her back down. "Just a minute."

Nora half-smiled at him in a decidedly warmer fashion than she had in the last few days.

Miles stared at the ground, concentrating. "Ok. Let's go."

"Ok? You've pulled yourself together?"

"Laugh it up," he muttered.

Nora shook her head. At this moment, she wasn't about to admit to him how glad she was to be a woman. Or how much she wanted to be alone with him.

Meanwhile above Miles and Nora, Charlie absentmindedly scratched her lower arm. In doing so, she hadn't realized that she'd lifted the sleeve of her leather jacket. Rachel instantly snatched her daughter's arm and looked with evident horror at the branded insignia revealed there: M.

"Charlie! What…you said he didn't hurt you!" Rachel gasped.

"He didn't!" Charlie snatched away her arm. She really didn't feel like going into the saga of Michael and Peter and the other children. The memory wearied her. It felt like an eternity ago.

"Explain this!" Rachel hissed, and then realizing too late that she was pushing her daughter further away, she tried to soften her tone. "Please, Charlie. What happened?"

Charlie had already gotten up to walk briskly away, just as Miles and Nora were scampering back up the loose dirt of the embankment. As soon as Miles was within arm's reach, Rachel aggressively grabbed him by his shirt.

"What did you do to my daughter, Miles?" she raged.

Miles tried to shake her off and looked at Aaron and Danny questioningly. Danny gazed at him accusingly (which seemed to be Danny's main expression toward Miles these days), while Aaron's eyes were filled with sympathy. Nora jogged on to catch Charlie.

"Charlie!" Nora caught up with her. "What happened?"

Charlie glanced at Nora. "Mom saw the brand."

Nora raised her eyebrows briefly. "Well it was bound to happen." She glanced back at Miles, who looked like hell was being given to him. "Poor Miles. I think you getting branded was one of the worst things that happened to him on this whole trip. And that's saying something."

Charlie looked quizzically at Nora. Nora shrugged. "He just wants to protect you, Charlie."

"Nora…Miles is so angry at Jason. But I think, I know this sounds crazy, but I think I love him. I mean, I see you and Miles together, and I want that with someone. Jason feels right."

Nora smiled at this sudden turn in the conversation, flashing her white teeth. She put an arm around Charlie's shoulders, confidingly. "Again, Miles is just being protective of you. It's natural for…you know, fathers or uncles to worry about that kind of stuff, maybe even be a little jealous that they might stop being the main man in your life. It's how family acts."

Charlie smiled at Nora. "I'm sorry I told Miles about your baby. It came out…I sometimes say things I regret. Miles told me the other day that I'm rash. When Miles tells you that you're rash, you start to worry…"

Nora shook her head soothingly. "It was good you told him. If Miles and I are going to move forward, then we have a lot of baggage to deal with. We might as well get started." Nora looked pensive for a moment, worried that what she was proposing was impossible.

Charlie gave a respectful pause and then asked, "What's it like…I mean, is it nice, being with a man?"

Nora giggled. This was like having Mia around again, and it spread warmth through her veins. She squeezed Charlie's shoulders a little more tightly.

"Yeah, it's definitely nice. It can be very, very comforting. But you know, it might take a little time to get that way."

Charlie nodded and blushed, looking down. Reflexively she wished she had a mother. And then she realized that she did. But that mother was a disappointment. She was grateful to have Nora around.

* * *

The rest of the day was an exercise in waiting, as most of war was, Miles reminded himself. Miles wanted to make the most of the time they had left by attempting to set things right with Nora. Too often in the past, he'd allowed things with her to go unresolved, and the distance between them grew. The danger of the coming night was very real, and after all they'd been through, he owed her an explanation.

Miles asked Nora to walk with him, and they wandered into a small pasture surrounded with deciduous trees. They stopped, facing each other. Now that it was time to speak, he found he had no idea what to say. Nora sensed his discomfort but refused to help.

Finally, Miles said what had been in his mind for weeks. "I made a mistake. I've made so many mistakes, but this one really eats at me. I couldn't move on from you. How could I? I love you, Nora." He laughed a little at himself on this last sentence, because it seemed so silly and simple to say after all of these years. He hadn't really explained anything, but this was the best he could offer. He wasn't looking at her; his head was turned down and away. But at his last words, he glanced up and was surprised by how close her face loomed.

Nora gathered Miles in her arms.

Emboldened, he continued, "I'd make a shitty father. But if we had a child together, I'd be proud as hell of it's mother."

"You _don't_ make a shitty father," she said, which surprised Miles.

"Nora," Miles tucked her body into his and breathed shallowly into her hair. Nora could tell how much he wanted her, and she didn't waste any time giving in.

He began kissing her, prickling her cheeks with his scruff. She ran her hands down his familiarly rippled chest, imaging the scars beneath, and then undid his sword belt with a flourish.

"Just making sure it's you and not your swords that are happy to see me," she smiled into Miles' neck.

"It's definitely me, Babe." Miles lifted her up like she was made of air and laid her on the grass.

* * *

Charlie had excused herself from the group, longing to find Jason. She had to tell him about their plans. Even if Miles couldn't admit they needed Jason, she knew better. While she was upset that he hadn't told her that Neville was his father, she also kept thinking back to that moment on the train. Neville had demanded Charlie, but Jason helped her escape anyway. He'd defied his father, probably, almost certainly, at great risk to himself. Charlie thought about all the strife her own family had caused. Despite everything, family was family. She couldn't blame Jason for having mixed loyalties.

She hastened toward a clearing and stopped short, leaping behind a tree. It was Miles and Nora-Miles on top of Nora without his shirt on. From this angle she could clearly see his nearest arm and its tattoos, one of which portrayed a shape all too familiar that caused a sudden surge of nausea. She glanced down at her brand. Then after a moment, she remembered that she was witnessing her uncle in a very personal moment. She glanced once more to see Miles' lips traveling down Nora's stomach and then ran for it. When she stopped a few minutes later, she was winded far beyond what she should have been.

She had to find Jason. But as usual, Jason found her first.

"Charlie! You ok? You look upset," Jason said as he jogged up as silent as a breeze.

Charlie looked at him briefly and then sank into his arms, her speech muffled in his chest. "Why didn't you tell me that Tom Neville is your father?" Oddly, tears sprang to her eyes. She cursed herself for being so emotional.

Jason hugged her back. "I'm sorry…but I didn't think you'd take it well."

Charlie sniffled and laughed lightly. Confliction over Jason's part in her brother's capture and her father's death suddenly choked her, but she pushed down these feelings and gazed up into his eyes.

"We are planning something really dangerous tonight. I need your help. But Miles can't know. He'd kill you."


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: So from now for awhile, you're going to get a mixture of flashbacks to the past and the present, rather like the show. You'll see why the story takes on this format in a moment. This means the present story might not move forward quite as quickly as it has been, but it will provide crucial context to next stages. Enjoy! And yes, those of you dear Charlie-Jason nuts, there is much more of those two youngsters ahead._

* * *

Miles was lying in a clean, white bed, so white, in fact, that he was embarrassed about how filthy he was. His armpits reeked of sweat. His hair stuck to the pillow. He tried to scratch his legs, but they were covered in bandages. Then pain, blinding and excruciating, abraded his nerves, his muscles, his skin. And his brain begged for death.

_(One week earlier)_

The attack on the border began so well. The bombs went off according to plan. Miles, Rachel, and Nora had slain the whole of the border guards, stolen their guns, and barreled forward. Then things turned bad. Georgia Militia was crawling all over the prison, which was really more of a fort. Miles wondered what Rachel's friend had done to get interned there. It took hours longer then they had planned to locate the room where the prisoners' belongings were locked up. Miles and Nora left Rachel to extract the pendant, while they looked for her friend. On the way to the cells, one of the guards managed to grab Nora, holding a bowie knife to her throat.

"Drop your weapons, or she's dead," the guard drawled at Miles. Miles was just about to do so, when the soldier scrutinized Nora more carefully. "A dark-skinned beauty like you. You'll make a nice slave," he purred, grabbing clumsily at her breast.

In a fit of fury, Miles lunged at the guard and finished him, but not before Nora had taken a deep slice down to the bone of her arm. Miles examined the wound and could tell it was bad. It was an ominous injury before they'd begun the hardest part-liberating the prisoner. Miles insisted on sending Nora back to find Rachel to blow the cell walls from the outside, otherwise he saw no way in hell he was getting back out of such a secure location.

After a furious battle with the cell guards, it looked like Miles and Rachel's friend-a man so fragile from starvation that his skeleton shone through his papery skin-were going to make it out. Nora's first bomb produced a gaping exit. But at the last moment, a Georgian militiaman emerged from nowhere and delayed their escape. Nora's second bomb went off just as Miles was trying to extract them from the rubble, and both he and Rachel's friend got hit. The older man was instantly gone, his face blown to a hideous, unrecognizable mush. Miles used his elbows to crawl out of the mess. He didn't dare look at his legs, though he felt certain that he'd never walk again. Searing pain told him that he had extensive burns and shards of rubble lodged in his flesh like pieces of a macabre mosaic.

When he finally looked up from the dirt, strong hands hoisted him up and began dragging him. At first, Miles thought he was hallucinating, but when the voice finally spoke, he realized it was Jason Neville.

"I'm going to carry you across the border. It's going to hurt. Hold on and don't lose consciousness."

"No. Leave me. I can't make it." Miles had never been wounded this extensively. It wasn't plausible to waste time on his rescue.

Jason ignored him. Miles tried not to scream in agony when he was hoisted onto the muscular young man's back, but he abided by what Jason had said. He knew the kid was correct. Staying awake meant the difference between life and death. He worried about Nora and Rachel, and if they were alive, but concentrating on not blacking out from the pain suddenly required his entire mental effort.

What felt like hours later, Jason laid Miles carefully in the grass. Its wet tendrils cooled his hot cheeks as he started to loose consciousness. Miles suddenly smelled his own charred flesh and felt sick, jarring him back out of his descent. He barely turned his head to dry heave, and Charlie's face was filling his view like a ghostly moon. She lifted his head gently into her hands.

"Are we in the Republic?" Miles asked gritting his teeth. He just wanted to know that he was home. He had a sudden powerful urge not to die in Georgia amongst the slave traders and swindlers he so despised.

"Miles," Charlie shook, tears streaming down her face. "Yes, we're back."

_Well this must be bad_, Miles thought. He could almost see his wounds reflected in the terror on her face. He still refused to scrutinize his own legs. Whether he looked or not wouldn't change what happened next. It was all up to fate. A fresh wave of lightning pain swept over him. And then anger. He kept his eyes squeezed shut as he growled:

"Charlie! I told you to keep Jason away! How could you be so stupid to bring a Neville here!" He opened his eyes to look at her and saw her shrink back like she had suffered a barrage of bullets. He felt instant, throbbing remorse. Everything was pain. If he was dying, this was not the way to go out.

"I'm…sorry," he barely got out through his teeth. It was like he had Tetanus, his jaw ached from clenching so badly. He tried to let her know with his face that he loved her, was truly sorry for all of the pain he'd caused her. He was past the point where he could form coherent words. He choked out, "Hurts…" which was not what he'd intended.

"I know, Miles. We're going to get you help. You need to hang on." Tears were splashing down from her face onto his. And that's all Miles remembered.

Now apparently, after all of that, he was still alive. Miles didn't believe in God, but he had to ask himself why he kept getting second chances. He blacked out once more in the pristine bed.

* * *

_(One week earlier: Charlie)_

Charlie, Jason, Danny, and Aaron had been watching Nora, Miles, and Rachel clearing out the Georgian border guards from above. Jason was engrossed, deeply focused.

"We've got to follow them in, Jason," Charlie said, praying he'd agree. She couldn't bear the thought of the three adults down there dying without her.

He looked briefly at her and stared back ahead. After a suspenseful moment, he finally said, "Ok. We go in. You two-"

"Danny and Aaron," Charlie informed him, with a strong desire to induct him into their little makeshift family.

"Danny and Aaron, we absolutely need you to stay here. If any of us gets wounded, we'll need something…a wagon? We'll need a way to evacuate."

"Got it," Aaron nodded with a frightened look on his face.

Charlie and Jason swiftly set off into the darkness, Charlie's heart pounding like a freight train. By the time they were outside the prison, they found Nora, bleeding badly from the arm, along with Rachel, who was practically holding Nora up. Rachel appeared to have some cuts, but was otherwise intact, Charlie noted gratefully. She hadn't exactly left things on the best terms with her mother.

"Where's, Miles?" Charlie gasped with sudden panic.

"Get down!" Nora instructed, and they all hit the deck as a massive explosion blew the side of the fortress.

Charlie felt something warm trickle down the side of her face and was afraid her ear drum had gone. She couldn't see anything through the smoke…until she did. Two pale figures. Then Nora screamed at them, but to no avail. A second explosion went off.

Jason ran into the rubble, and Charlie started to follow him in a blind panic, but Rachel stopped her. Charlie's eyes searched the smoke wildly, and finally Jason emerged dragging the body of her uncle out. Miles' body. He wasn't moving, and even from a distance she could tell that he was gruesomely covered with blood, parts of his legs singed black. Charlie's heart dropped into her stomach.

Charlie ran up to see Jason steadily mounting Miles on his back, as if her six-foot-one uncle weighed nothing.

"Let's get out of here, Charlie!" Jason said. The escape back across the border was terrifying. Nora had tossed Charlie a gun, and she fired erratically, unsure if she hit anything. By the time they found Aaron and Danny waiting with a wagon, Charlie felt sick from fear. Miles was dying. He had to be. He looked so far gone.

Jason sank to the ground, laying Miles down as gently as possible. Charlie immediately went to her uncle, who was heaving in the grass and cradled his head. She had to tell him not to leave. He had brought her back when she was dying, and she could do the same for him. She had to.

They exchanged a few words before Miles passed out, and whatever Charlie said felt like the wrong thing. Why hadn't she told him to stay even if he saw his brother on the other side? Why hadn't she told him that she loved him and couldn't go on without him? She was aware of a torrent of tears raining onto Miles' white face from her own eyes. Rachel finally pulled her away.

"Come on. I know. I know. We've got to go," her mother said soothingly.

Charlie had a moment of sudden clarity. "Did you get the pendant?"

Rachel's eyes were also filled with tears, Charlie realized.

"Yes."

"But your friend…?"

"Died in the explosion," Jason answered. "I saw him. He was already gone."

Jason and Danny loaded Miles into the wagon. Nora was looking very green, her own wound hideous to behold.

Everyone was shocked when Jason said, "I think I know where we can find someone to treat Miles. My dad told me about him-General Matheson's former personal doctor. The militia allowed him to return to civilian practice as a reward for his service. He's about two hours ride from here."

In the wagon, Charlie rested her uncle's head in her lap, while Nora sat across from her gritting her teeth and sweating. Nora had been wounded over and over to protect Charlie's family. Charlie wanted to tell Nora how grateful she was, but she was afraid to speak. Afraid this would become real, and Miles would be dying.

Aaron and Jason rode up front together. Aaron whispered, but Charlie still overheard: "Jason, is it?"

Jason nodded, focusing on driving the horses.

"You've seen battle wounds before. Do you think Miles will make it?"

Jason glanced at him. "It looks bad. But…well even though I joined the militia after Miles deserted, people in the ranks still talk about him in hushed tones. With awe. They call him invincible, indestructible. So if he lives up to the hype, maybe he'll be ok."

He looked back to see Charlie staring at him with her wide blue eyes and quickly focused on the road. He didn't want to give her false hope.

Finally, Charlie allowed herself to look down. Miles' pale face looked like it had lived a hundred agonizing lives. His chest rose and fell in tiny, hitched breaths. She felt so acutely that she roared aloud, "It's not fair. You can't have him too!" She had no idea whom she was raging at. But her voice sang out over the din of the horses hooves, the churning of the wheels, and into the woods that were just holding at bay the rising sun. She met her mother's eyes and saw something there she couldn't understand.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: You guys and your sweet reviews! Because you were so kind, you get a twofer. But also I can't update tomorrow. I'm sorry...things are not going to get better yet. :( _

* * *

Nora watched Miles carefully from across the room. He was twitching in bed, while she sat cross-legged in a large, tattered armchair. Nora had been sitting around for over a week, nursing her arm, waiting to see if Miles would wake up. Doc said the chances of him coming out of the coma were decent, but there was no saying when it would happen. Nora had been doing a lot of thinking…too much, Miles would have said, had he been able to talk to her. "Thinking too much on your own can only come to no good," he'd once said to her. The irony was, he eventually left her to do just that.

Nora had to ask herself why she had allowed herself to be pulled into Miles' unfolding epic family drama. She kept coming back to the same answer: love. She recalled that Mia had told her years ago that love was a silly emotion that people fought battles over, killed over. And what was the point of it anyway? Nora had answered that love was an action. It was a commitment. But now…she questioned whether she wanted to devote her life to love of a man. Could it be that she was attempting to replace the child she had lost with the man who had given it to her?

Early on in Nora's relationship with Miles, she'd asked him, "Why'd you join the marines?"

Miles had answered pensively: "At first just because it was the thing Bass and me had always wanted to do together: be soldiers. But over time, you just…you fell in love with your country, and you'd do anything for it, sacrifice anything. And you knew the guy to your left felt the same way."

That had really struck Nora, because after the United States collapsed, Miles appeared to transfer that patriotism to the Republic he helped create.

All at once, Nora felt resolve. She loved Miles, but she didn't want to spent the time she had left simply for the love of a man, especially when it was unclear if he'd survive. _Because_ she loved Miles, she would bring back the country he had once sacrificed everything to defend. She had the sense that bringing back the United States could restore Miles, restore all of the broken people in the Republic. And then her life would have really meant something. That's what Charlie had said back at the children's camp. We don't know what's going to happen, so let's make it mean something.

Nora was going to return to the rebel base near Philly, because she believed she now had the very thing that could make the difference, something she had found in Georgia and brought back with her. This was the resistance's chance, perhaps their _one_ chance, to reinstate the United States of America.

Miles' eyes fluttered. "Doc! Come quick! Something's happening…" Nora called, emerging from the armchair with new vigor.

* * *

Miles awoke in utter bewilderment. Dr. Arora was staring at him. _His_ doctor from his days as general of the militia. Had he dreamed the assault on the prison? And furthermore, had he dreamed deserting from the militia in the first place? Maybe it was after the Trenton campaign, and he was recovering from his belly wound. He had a sudden and intense longing to see Bass. He put his hand on his abdomen, before realizing that the pain was emanating from his legs. The pain was so intense that he almost vomited, but he willed the bile downward.

"Miles? That's right. It's time to wake up. Easy, now. Ok, that's a boy," the gentle, vaguely accented voice was encouraging. Then Nora's face appeared. Her arm was in a sling. So the prison break was real. Cold fear rushed into Miles' stomach. Where was everyone else? Would he be able to use his legs? Would he even live?

"Doc?" he tried to get out, but his voice was so raspy, he only coughed, producing more bile. Nora took his hand.

"Hey. You've been out a little over a week. Wasn't sure we'd see you again this side of paradise," she smiled. He saw fear behind her warmth.

"Here, drink a little water," the doctor said, offering him a sip from a mason jar.

Miles' ability to swallow felt rusty. He blinked at the two familiar faces, hoping they would explain without him asking. His mind was fast becoming occupied by managing his own pain, which was only slightly less excruciating than last time he had awoken.

"The others?" he squeaked out.

"They're off on a mission to store up arms. We didn't know if…how long it would be before you woke up. They'll be back soon. They got the…well they got it," Nora said, not knowing how much she could trust Arora, but feeling fairly confident in his devotion to Miles. She had seen how tenderly the older man had cared for the former general. Like Miles was his own son.

"Your arm?" Miles croaked.

"It's going to be ok."

"Charlie?"

"She's fine."

"But with Jason?"

"Jason saved your life, Miles. He's loyal to Charlie."

Miles closed his eyes. How little he believed that, but there was nothing he could do. The doctor took this moment to respectfully depart and allow them some privacy.

"Miles? Now that you're awake…I'm sorry, but I have to go."

"Go," Miles parroted back, confused.

"I discovered something in the fort. Orders for an invasion. The Georgians are planning an attack on the Republic. I'm taking the papers to a rebel base outside of the capital. This is the moment we can seize upon to bring down the Monroe Militia. We've never had a chance like this before."

Miles' eyes widened, and he tried to sit up, but Nora gently put a hand on his bare chest and pushed him back down. The gesture was unnecessary, because the pain was so swift and intense that Miles ground his teeth together and stopped short. His eyes felt hot as he squeezed his eyelids to block out the searing agony.

Finally, he opened his eyes and spoke in a steadier voice. "Nora, think about what you're doing. If you undermine the militia when they're under attack, who will win? You, the rebels? A bunch of undertrained vigilantes? No, the Georgians will. You heard what that guard said to you at the border: people like you, they'll make you slaves in Georgia."

"People like me?" she asked in a cold voice.

"Nora! I'm not kidding about this. The Georgians enslave anyone with dark skin. They've returned women to a submissive state. It's fucking paternalism down there. You need to think. Will it really be better with the Georgians in charge?"

"The Georgians won't be in charge, Miles," Nora insisted. "We have assembled enough resistance to bring back the United States."

"Listen to yourself!" Miles cried hoarsely. "You sound insane! Let's say by some miracle you guys actually gain dominance. You think you'll bring back the fucking United States? I've seen your rebels-they're just as militarized as my militia, using soldier ranks and as much force as any army that ever lived. You won't bring back democracy. You'll bring back the United States in name only, but it will just be another military junta."

"No, Miles. You're wrong."

Miles felt so desperate to get her to understand. Monroe had to be assassinated, that much was true. And probably Tom. But then there had to be a truce. If there was a battle for power, there would follow a bloody reckoning for the losers. The people wouldn't vote, they'd simply punish the guilty, and a new dictator would rise up. Why wasn't she listening? This conversation was worse than the pain.

"Miles, I'm sorry we disagree about this. But I've got to go. Now. I've already spent too long here. The attack is scheduled for a month from now."

She loomed close and kissed him on the forehead.

Miles closed his eyes, "Please, Nora. Please don't go." He had never begged before in his life, not even under four months of hideous torture in Afghanistan. But he was willing to beg her to stop this lunacy.

She shivered at his desperation. "I have to."

"Why?"

"For our baby, Miles."

Miles made an exasperated sound. "Our baby's dead, Nora. I'm sorry, but you're doing the selfish thing here. This is wrong! If you walk out that door…then this has to be goodbye. I can't support your decision. You're putting everyone at risk! Charlie…" For the second time on this trip, Miles felt he was being asked to choose between Nora and Charlie, but this time, he didn't need Aaron to convince him.

Nora looked regretfully at him and crossed the room. She took a breath and went through the door, shutting it softly behind her. Once on the other side, tears streamed down her face. She had no idea if this was the right decision, but it was the one she was making.

The click of the door released something deep inside of Miles that he had been holding onto. Nora couldn't have been clearer. As swiftly as their romance had reignited, it was snuffed out. There was no Miles and Nora anymore. Their paths had diverged, perhaps irrevocably.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: The memories in this chapter are from slightly less than 3 years before the blackout._

* * *

It was ten below in Chicago, and an ungodly frigid blast of wind slapped Miles across the cheeks. But on he stood staring at the crusty river. Leave it to the U.S. military to send him home early from his tour in Afghanistan, because of the 'psychological trauma' he'd endured as a POW, just in time for the worst of Chicago winter.

His eyeballs were frozen. It definitely was not healthy for him to be outside anymore.

"Miles," Rachel appeared out of nowhere and put her hand on his shoulder. "I've been looking for you. You have to come home. It's freezing."

He tore his eyes away from the frozen chunks of ice on the water to look at her, still unblinking.

"Miles. Talk to me. You've got to talk to someone about what happened. You don't have to bear it alone."

Miles' lips shuddered from cold or stress, he didn't know. "Bass…" was all he could get out.

"Bass isn't here, honey. He's still in Afghanistan."

Miles shivered violently.

Finally he spoke: "I…how can I tell you when I can't…Words don't…they don't help to make sense of this."

"Try." Rachel's blue eyes were full of compassion.

"I don't know, Rachel. Sick, perverse things happened in that prison. People think saying things will help them go away. But it just makes them real. It makes them real!" Miles shouted the last bit very loudly. So loudly a bundled woman walking by visibly jumped in her tracks and then hurried on.

Rachel took Miles in her arms and pressed him to her body so tightly that he couldn't breath. And then the dam broke. It was too cold to produce tears, so Miles only shook and shook. He actually bit his own lip, drawing metallic-tasting blood.

"Miles, we've got to get out of the cold. Come into the car, and we'll turn on the heat."

Miles followed her numbly. Rachel got him into the passenger seat and began driving nowhere in particular to warm up the car.

"Listen, Miles I know Ben and me haven't always been supportive of your decision to join the marines, but it takes one hell of a strong person to even make it through the training, let alone three tours. This one…well this one ended especially badly. But you are going to survive it. You must!"

Miles noticed that Rachel's breasts were leaking through her sweater. Her newborn son, he thought. Daniel. Such an innocent. He shuddered to think of all the misery a baby like Danny would have to endure in a lifetime. Danny, in fact, was already suffering-so sickly, he almost never stopped crying. Rachel looked like she hadn't slept in an eternity.

Rachel noticed that Miles' eyes had traveled to her shirt and attempted to pull her jacket shut in embarrassment. It wasn't easy balancing a colicky baby, a rambunctious toddler, and a very broken veteran of war in the dead of winter, especially because Ben was away on a three-month fellowship at Stanford.

She said pointedly, "We need you to survive this, Miles."

"Why?" Miles choked, looking out the frosty window at the bleakest city on earth. The city he loved.

"You're our family." Rachel gripped Miles' hand, still painfully frozen in his glove. He felt a surge of emotion at her touch. "We…I love you."

What happened next was so painfully embarrassing to Miles, he had tried to wipe the memory. But stuck in bed with painful, wasted legs, he seemed unable to stem the tide of memories.

When Rachel had gotten Miles back to her apartment, he had remained so chilled to the core that she'd insisted he get into a warm bath. The children were still with a neighbor, since Rachel had driven for hours to find Miles. Miles kept trying to undo the buttons of his coat, but his fingers shook and burned as they thawed, and finally he made a small sound of defeated frustration that Rachel took as a signal to intervene. He hadn't wanted her to, but he was so empty that he had no will to resist. She took him to the bathroom and undressed him like she would have with one of her children-tenderly, carefully.

"Your body," she said, staring at him in a way that made the pit of his stomach ache.

"Hm?" he asked, still shivering even in the warm water.

"Looks like it's been through a meat grinder."

Miles wasn't sure how to take this comment. He looked at her and decided she was just observing him like the scientist she was. He closed his eyes and sank down into the water. He didn't know how long she continued to look at him, but he allowed her presence to comfort him. It was so odd: he felt like they'd somehow always been there, frozen just like that, passive as the world surged onward without them. Peaceful. He stopped shivering.

Miles lay in Doc Arora's bed drenched in cold sweat but, at the same time, his legs aflame. He rolled over and buried his face violently in his pillow. That memory, those feelings it produced. He hadn't really understood it all these years. But suddenly he knew what he'd buried so far deep inside of himself to protect himself, to protect Rachel, and most of all to protect Ben.

He loved Rachel.

And not the kind of love he should feel for a sister-in-law but something deep and raw and animal. He had loved her long before she saved him that day; perhaps from the moment he'd first laid eyes on her.

He had lied to himself, to Monroe, and even to Nora all these years. It was he who had pushed for Rachel to turn herself in instead of Ben, though he'd turned it around on Monroe, even convincing himself that Bass had a strange attraction to her. But Bass had known the truth-he always did. He saw Bass's piercing eyes looming before him, perceiving straight through Miles' guise and agreeing with him nonchalantly that, 'Yes, it should be Rachel, because Ben would be better left to protect the children.' Miles had told Nora that it was Bass' infatuation that had kept Rachel at headquarters, but it was Miles' own selfish, self-deluding desire, obscured by so much pain and forbidden attraction. What a terrible twist, Miles thought. How little he had understood his own emotions. How much of the world could one lone man tear down?

For the first time since his wounding, Miles attempted to get out of bed. He put one foot at a time on the floor and stood up like a foal finding its legs. Excruciating as it was, Miles felt a surge of elation: _I'm walking_. He went to the window and parted the curtains. He was on the second story of a house, and it was winter now. How strange to think that his lengthy slumber had ushered in a new season. There was snow on the ground, and the sky was that interminable gray-white.

Things were so clear now. Being in love with his own brother's wife, after failing Ben in so many ways-this was why Miles had avoided Ben. He had told himself that Ben was a civvie and didn't understand what soldiers went through, but that hadn't been the problem.

After that winter three years before the blackout, Miles had returned to base, where he reunited with Bass. Bass had put his hand on Miles' shoulder and pulled him in for a hearty embrace, but Miles noticed his friend's strange scrutiny.

"Hey." Bass studied Miles' face. "How did you do in Chicago, man? I know going home to your family is not exactly a vacation from war for you." Bass smiled.

Miles eyed him resignedly. He sighed. "It was ok. Rachel…" then he stopped himself, afraid to even mention her name, not knowing the reason but feeling angry at himself.

Bass cocked his head. "Hm. Well it's good to see you, brother. It was hard being over there without you. We lost Rable. Don't know if you heard…" he trailed off.

Miles nodded. "He was a good kid. Far too good for war." Soldierly platitudes meaning nothing.

Bass changed the subject. "I heard you got your head shrunk in Chicago! Did you at least get some meds out of it?"

Miles smiled, "I was pretty noncompliant with the shrink. I didn't take the drugs either."

"Idiot. Did you at least bring them with you?"

Miles said, "C'mon Bass. Alcohol is our chosen poison. Let's go have a drink. Or five." But Miles was lying. He had been taking the medication, because when he didn't, he felt like he was swimming though film.

"Ok, bud. Let's go," Bass said, tossing a casual arm around Miles' shoulders.

Miles' memory of this scene was interrupted by his doctor knocking and entering his chamber.

Doc Arora said in a hearty voice, "Miles! How good to see you standing. I'd like to show you something I think you'll enjoy."


	11. Chapter 11

Charlie was lying next to Jason in the woods, ensconced in a pile of blankets and atop a makeshift bed made of pine needles with another blanket stretched over it. Their fire had fallen into disuse and lay smoldering nearby. They were in Ohio country, on a mission to shore up arms, vehicles, whatever they could lay hands on to counteract Monroe's advantage - to get close enough to him to kill him. For the past week, they had slowly been casing a militia post that looked promising. Jason insisted that it was madness to think a small team of motley travelers could take down Monroe single-handedly, but something deep in Charlie's gut felt good about this. Maybe she was going to successfully kill Monroe, or maybe she was going to die trying, but either way, she felt a profound sense of fulfillment. Of course, maybe that had something to do with what she and Jason had just done. Not that it had gone particularly well, but Nora had warned her about that. And it didn't seem to matter. She felt like she had been inducted into a new phase of life; she had participated in an ancient ritual. She felt so alive.

Jason appeared to be sleeping, although she was never sure with him. Hear head lay on his chest. She stared at the stars, tracing Orion's belt. Her father had once told her that Orion is visible from every inhabited part of the Earth.

She decided to test her theory about her beau. "Jason, you awake?"

"Mm," he responded. Yep. She wondered if he ever really slept.

Charlie stroked the smooth skin of his chest a bit timidly. This was all so new. "Why are you still here, helping us? I mean, aren't you going to have to make a choice at some point?" she asked Jason.

He sighed, "Charlie, in some ways, I already have…I'm not sure what I'm doing anymore. But I'm sure of you, and that's what keeps me around." Jason knew at this point that he was going to have a hell of a time making a case against desertion. The penalty for convicted desertion? Death by firing squad.

Charlie snuggled under his chin and breathed in his scent: leather and sweat. The scent of pine also intermingled, as it seeped up from below their bodies. This was the most wonderful thing she had ever smelled. Despite the fact that it was winter, she was perfectly warm.

Meanwhile Rachel was sitting in the snow in the woods, alone in the dark, shivering. Melted snow had seeped into her pants, making her wonder if her rear were still attached to her body. She vaguely thought of Charlie off somewhere with Jason. She supposed she could guess what they were up to. It was odd to think that Charlie had grown up that much. Rachel squeezed her eyes shut and thought of Miles.

Suddenly, she was swimming in memory. She had been alone gathering mushrooms in the woods for the family, when Miles, general of the Monroe Militia, had appeared out of nowhere. She hadn't seen him in years. He looked so much older and worn than she remembered, but she supposed she did too. The blackout had muddied all of their souls and canceled their youth. Maybe for Miles most of all. Or maybe he wasn't so different. She knew from experience how one small compromise led to another and another…until the power went out forever.

"Miles…" she said, standing.

"Rachel. I have a message for you from Monroe," was all he offered.

"How…how did you find me?"

Miles just gazed steadily at her and kept speaking, as if ceasing the flow of words might render his voice unusable. "If you don't come with me to headquarters, then Monroe's going to go after the children."

"What?" Rachel's stomach lurched. "What are you talking about?"

"Bass wants the power back on, and he knows that you know something."

"No, he can't get to the children! It's impossible. You wouldn't let him do that, Miles." She challenged him with her eyes. _Would you?_

"He will, and there's no time. You can say goodbye to your family, and in 3 hours you should report to the large barn two miles northeast of here. I've tried to…I can't stop this. It's beyond my control."

"How can that be? Nothing's beyond your control." Her voice shook with anger.

"Trust me, Rachel. This is."

The truly incomprehensible part in all of this was that when Rachel showed up to the rendezvous point, and she had seen Miles standing with his back turned, pouring over paperwork, she had actually felt…she couldn't say what she had felt. Not glad - she was devastated to leave her children, emptied by the severity of that pain. But it had not been easy surviving the apocalyptic world with Ben. Ben had relied on her for so many tough decisions. She had killed, and she had stolen. She had done it all for the family, while Ben's morality remained intact, unstained. It was like they had made an unspoken agreement in their marriage: _I'll be good cop, you be bad._ Except she had never agreed to be the bad cop.

Turning herself over to Miles' care was almost a relief, a kind of homecoming and a deserved punishment all at the same time. At the very least, Miles was wracked by self-loathing that mirrored her own. When he turned around to face her, she could see that plainly. She had begged him to promise that she'd see the kids again. She hadn't thought to include Ben in that sentence.

Shaking off that memory, she tried to stand up from the snow, feeling a sickening wave of guilt.

"Rachel! Jesus, it's cold out here. Why don't you come back to the fire." Aaron had appeared in front of her. Aaron, her old friend from the Chicago techie crowd. Before the blackout he had been such a laugh: quick-witted, sarcastic…but very loyal. The blackout had rendered his virtues useless like it had to so many others.

Aaron put out his hands, and Rachel allowed him to pull her out of the snow. They walked arm and arm back toward the fire where Danny awaited.

On the way, Aaron asked, "Rachel?"

"Mm?"

"How come I never met Miles before? I mean, I hung around with you and Ben a lot in Chicago."

Rachel paused and thought of Aaron's pretty wife. She was afraid to ask what had become of her.

"Miles only visited us a couple of times after we met you - when Danny was a baby and again two years before the blackout for the funerals…" she trailed off.

"Funerals?" Aaron asked curiously.

"It's not important," Rachel responded airily.

"Rachel…" Aaron's expression read, _What is it with you people and your bottomless pit of secrets?_

Perhaps Rachel did owe him explanations. Or perhaps she really owed them to Danny and Charlie.

In any case, she elaborated: "Bass's, um, Monroe's family. They died in a car crash two years before the blackout. All of them - his parents, his sisters."

"Ouch. I guess that kind of tragedy will make a villain out of you."

Rachel squeezed Aaron's arm more tightly to avoid tripping over a log partially obscured by the snow. Tragedy made villains of some and heroes of others…or a little of both, she supposed.

"So even before Miles became commanding general of the militia, you guys weren't close?" Aaron continued.

Rachel stared ponderously at the snow. "Ben and Miles were always a bit estranged from each other. Miles…he made a lot of mistakes. He was a moody teenager, really quiet, kind of a deadbeat, really." Rachel smiled and Aaron laughed, enjoying the image. "But the marine corps definitely changed him. He grew up a lot in his twenties, and then…he just kind of slipped away."

"How do you mean?"

"Oh, the wars, I suppose…I don't know that I understand it completely." But the thing is, after being tortured by Strausser, Rachel suspected that maybe she did understand just a little. "Something died in Miles in Afghanistan. Ben didn't really want him around the kids after that."

"Huh, keeping Miles from the kids did _not_ work out for Ben. Poor guy."

Rachel shrugged. "Ben must have changed his mind to some extent, or he wouldn't have sent Charlie to find Miles."

"Well…who else was there? The way I figure, maybe Ben knew that Charlie could handle it, could change Miles for the better."

Rachel felt an odd pang of sadness. "She does seem to have that power, doesn't she? It's strange. You give birth to someone, a human being who looks just like you, and you expect them to _be_ like you. But Charlie has so far surpassed me…"

Aaron cut off this line of thought, "I've spent a lot of time with Charlie in the past few months, and I can tell you, she _is_ a lot like you. She's also a lot like Ben. And I hate to admit it, but a little like Miles, too."

Rachel couldn't stop smiling all the way back to the fire. Aaron had this incredible ability to take a horrible moment and make it light again. She supposed the blackout hadn't taken away everything.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Muchas gracias to my pal DYTR for HORSE SENSE! I hope I did you solid._

* * *

Doc Arora gave Miles a walking stick to lean on and helped to support his weight as they descended the staircase. Each stair was agony, but Miles forced himself to continue. He wasn't going to get better feeling sorry for himself. Doc eyed him but didn't suggest that Miles rest. He knew Miles too well; he'd nursed him through dozens of injuries, ranging from minor to severe.

Once on the ground floor Miles paused briefly, trying to will his breathing to sound less labored.

"Tashakor," Miles said in Dari, one of the few phrases he remembered from his time in Afghanistan.

"You're welcome," Doc answered warmly. He draped a large fur (that looked like it had come from a black bear) over Miles' shoulders. "Very nippy out there," he explained. Miles feebly limped out the door with his cane, the sudden cold almost taking his breath away. The follicles of his nose hairs stung briefly. Then he adjusted; it was probably in the mid-twenties.

Doc gestured toward a wooden pen, which contained several horses, reddish coats ablaze in the winter sun.

"Just brought them out of the barn for a bit of exercise," Doc informed Miles proudly, grasping the lapels of his coat and flashing his teeth, yellow against his deep brown skin. Doc chewed tobacco. Always had. Miles supposed everyone had his vice, even if the Doc should have known better. This world had so few creature comforts to offer.

Miles looked over at the horses fondly-such elegant creatures with impossibly fragile legs. It was cars that he loved before the blackout. He'd never ridden a horse until Bass and him had started building the militia. But from the first moment he had mounted Zeppelin-his chestnut mare-he had been hooked. A good car was still a machine; it did your bidding whether you were a good or a bad driver. But a horse…it was its own being, engaged in its own life. Just like leading men, once you won the horses' love and trust, you could direct it with even the subtlest suggestion. You could join your two journeys. But if you led poorly, each moment became a battle of wills.

All of a sudden it hit Miles what Doc was showing him. Doc was standing there patiently with his stained grin affixed permanently in place.

"Zep!" Miles exclaimed. He began hobbling over toward the horses as fast as his pathetic legs could carry him. He let the bear skin drop into the snow. "My God, girl. I never thought I'd see you again!" All of the agony that had been clouding the past weeks dissipated. Miles had abandoned Zeppelin in his getaway from the militia. He'd worried that she might have been hurt or not even survived his escape, but here she was, healthy as ever.

"How did you…?" Miles gasped over his shoulder to Doc.

Doc shrugged. "I still had some sway among militia leadership. I told them I wanted her; Monroe owed me. I've saved his life more than once. The benefits of being a doctor…"

Zeppelin had noticed her former owner now that he was near. Her ears pricked forward, and she flared her nostrils. She whinnied and trotted over. Miles achingly lifted his legs over the low pen to approach her neck within her line of vision.

Miles smiled, "Yeah, old girl. You remember! You remember." He felt oddly emotional as he raked his fingers across her withers. Zep snorted, bobbing her head into him a few times, before resting against his chest. He and this horse had been through a whole hell of a lot together. He closed his eyes in contentment.

Miles now had something to work toward. He was determined to ride his horse again and experience the uncomplicated elation of union with the one girl who didn't upset the equilibrium of his fucking Jenga game of a life.

* * *

About a week later, he was in the saddle. It was painful, but the triumph of meeting his goal encouraged him onward. He was riding a solitary, overgrown trail; evergreen needles nicked his and Zep's faces as they swished through the woods. There was something timeless about their ride this morning, like they were characters in one of those children's books Rachel had been reading to Charlie all those years ago when Miles had stayed with them. Miles had listened to the stories as enrapt as the toddler, because in fairytales it was all so clear: there was a righteous path and a path of iniquity. One road leads to grandma's house and the other the wolf. In Miles' life there had been a grandma and a wolf at every turn...and both had teeth.

Miles' allowed his mind to slink into the past, back to that Chicago trip he hadn't been able to stop thinking about.

Miles was standing in the lobby of the airport with Rachel, Charlie, and baby Danny. (Ben was still at Stanford.) Miles was headed back to base at Parris Island, where he would reunite with Bass. Miles was keen to see his friend, but also peculiarly unsettled about leaving Chicago. Miles glanced at the security line, which at O'Hare was dauntingly serpentine. He hated the attention of being in uniform at the airport, and it could even be dangerous in the post 9/11 epoch, but he wasn't going to have time to change on the other end before he was scheduled to report in.

"Well, I better get going," Miles droned, feeling hollow. He mustered a weak smile for little Charlie in spite of himself. She was a rascal of a toddler, and he found that he liked her very well.

"Bye-bye, Uncle Mise!" she chirped, tossing her golden hair.

"Go and kiss him, Charlie," Rachel urged, trying to push Charlie forward while gripping Danny, who appeared in danger of crying. Like always, poor kid.

Charlie dashed forward as if she were charging down an imaginary hill, and Miles squatted to receive her, nearly beheading himself with his bag. Charlie kissed Miles' freshly shaven cheek and proclaimed, "I miss your beard!" Miles had let his scruff grow while on medical leave in Chicago. He put his hands on the girl's shoulders - so tiny he was afraid she might break. How fragile humans were.

"Be good, Charlie," he said simply.

"Not good! Brave!" she insisted, because the bedtime book Rachel had read aloud last night was about a young mouse, who wasn't afraid of anything. Not spiders, not the dark, not even bears with red eyes.

Miles smiled. "Yeah." But his heart ached.

Rachel put Danny in his stroller, and mercifully he did not cry, he just gazed up at Miles with the widest, most watery blue eyes imaginable.

Rachel approached her brother-in-law somewhat hesitantly. "You don't have to go back."

"Huh?" Miles' equipment was starting to wear on his shoulder.

"To the marines. You could do something else. We can get you a job at the university."

"Doing what? Cleaning toilets?" Miles tried not to allow the instant brimming anger to overflow into his voice. "I'm doing what I'm good at," he said in a gentler tone.

"Killing people?" Rachel suggested in a small voice.

Miles shook his head, about to lose it on Rachel, when a hand touched the sleeve of his Alphas.

"Excuse me, sir," a woman in her early sixties chirped.

"Yes, ma'am?" Miles asked in a kind voice, bending down very low to hear her. She was uncommonly short.

"My son was a marine. You are all so brave. I'm so grateful for your service. How many tours?"

"Three ma'am. Two in Iraq, one in Afghanistan."

"But still so young! Oh well, bless you. My son died in Iraq last year. He was only 28."

"That's my age exactly," Miles said without thinking.

The woman studied him for a moment, and then she flushed a little. "Do you think…might I hug you? I didn't get to hug my son before his sacrifice."

Miles was taken aback. But this kind of thing happened occasionally when one was in uniform. Perfect strangers sometimes touched him, thanked him, proclaimed him a hero when they knew nothing about him, and, in the wake of 9/11, even begged for his protection. He looked at the shattered older woman. People dealt with loss in their own ways. He dropped his gear and nodded at her.

She stood on her tiptoes to embrace him. She smelled a bit odd, like eucalyptus, but her grip was firm and comforting. It had been so many years since Miles had hugged his own mother. He was surprised by sudden emotion but swallowed it before it could manifest. When the woman pulled away, tears were streaming down her cheeks.

"Thank you for doing what the rest of us can't. Thank you," she faltered.

Miles fought to make sure his lip did not tremble. _Semper Fi_, he thought to himself, pride surging in his stomach. "You're welcome."

"Such a beautiful family," the woman said, looking at Rachel and the kids. Before Miles could correct her, she hurried off.

Rachel had backed away to allow some privacy in this exchange. She now re-approached Miles and took her turn embracing him without warning. She said so close to his ear that it sent a strange wave of chills down his spine, "I may not have agreed with the wars you've fought in…but I am grateful for your sacrifice, too."

She pulled back, her hands remaining briefly on his cheeks.

Rachel looked so pretty in the morning sun with her perfect blonde children that Miles simply replied, "Goodbye," and headed for security. But as he walked, he wished he could make her understand what no civilians seemed to. It wasn't Miles' job to decide if war was right and wrong. It was his job to defeat the enemy. Their enemy.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Attention Jason lovers…this one's pour vous! xoxo_

* * *

"Uh," Miles grunted as Charlie flung her body into him for a enthusiastic embrace. The travelers had returned to retrieve Miles from the doctor's. Visible relief washed over the gathering at the sight of Miles on his feet. Of course, if they had seen what was under the legs of his pants, they wouldn't have felt quite as confident. Miles, for one, felt ten years older than when they had last parted. He was anxious that he wouldn't be able to keep up on the journey, or that in a fight he'd make a mistake and cost someone, most likely himself, their life.

"Oh! Did I hurt you?" Charlie pulled back from Miles quickly, concern washing over her face.

Miles smiled, "Nah, I'm not that fragile." It felt very good to see his niece again. Given Miles' hyperactive mind these past few weeks, he couldn't bring himself to look past Charlie to her mother. Instead he took in the sight of Danny and Aaron and scowled a little at Jason. Unbelievable that he was still here. He was going to be hunted by the militia for deserting for sure.

Charlie saw where Miles' gaze had traveled and flushed a little. Since she had last seen her uncle, she had changed. She had the odd sensation that he would notice the progress in her relationship with Jason. She was about to suggest that they get going, when Miles' eyes returned to her face to scrutinize it more carefully.

"What?" he asked her pointedly.

"What?" she said back, lifting her chin a little.

Miles rolled his eyes and grabbed his stuff. "Ok. Let's go. We've only got a week before-"

"Where's Nora?" Charlie asked suddenly.

"-before Nora's rebel brigade upsets the balance of the universe," Miles finished, a touch of irritation in his voice.

Aaron and Jason exchanged glances. That sounded ominous.

Rachel spoke up, "What does that-"

"I'll explain on the road. Let's go," Miles barked. One minute of being back with his family, and he already felt annoyed. Annoyed but also more grounded. And maybe just a little pleased.

Miles walked up to Doc Arora and shook his hand. "I'm grateful for all you've done. Take good care of Zep for me."

Doc smiled and spit into a silver spittoon.

Miles observed the small stockpile of weapons the group had accumulated that was stacked by the front door. He shook his head. Two Springfields and an M16.

"You were gone all that time and only scored a few muskets and one rifle?" Miles criticized loudly.

Jason looked irritated. "That's not all we did. We discovered a warehouse where Monroe's keeping a tank. When the time comes, we can take it."

Miles scratched his chin: a tank, that was something.

As the group headed off, large flakes of snow scattered down like paper shavings on an old Hollywood set. Or so Rachel reflected. Something strange was happening in her stomach since reuniting with Miles. Perhaps it was the squirrel meat that hadn't agreed with her. Despite Danny's best effort to char it beyond recognition, it hadn't been a very appetizing breakfast.

Miles was leading the pack, but Charlie couldn't help but notice a strange cadence to his gait that suggested he was still in pain. Miles had the M16 slung on his back in addition to his backpack, and his shoulders looked a little sloped under the weight.

"Do you want me to carry something for you?" she asked, catching up.

Miles pursed his lips and changed the subject.

"Charlie…I'm proud of you."

"What?" she was genuinely taken aback.

"You guys…you're all still alive. I've seen you exhibit some fine leadership skills, and I know you had something to do with everyone's safe return." This was Miles in military training mode. You told your troops when they did good.

"Thank you," she said, breaking out into a wide grin. Silly as it was, she felt like skipping; but she decided this would not increase her uncle's confidence in her maturation. She walked with her head held a little higher.

After they had continued on for a few hours, veering toward the outskirts of Philly to gather intelligence on Monroe's whereabouts, they stopped to eat. The doctor had given Miles almond cakes, a few loaves of hard bread, and some dried apple that looked like woodchips, but the company ate greedily nonetheless.

All the while, Miles kept gazing at Jason. Jason began to get nervous that there was going to be a confrontation. He rose and was about to excuse himself, when Miles stood as well. Miles approached him and the two stood eye to eye, Miles aggressively occupying Jason's space.

"So, Jason," Mile pronounced the name with contempt. "You're AWOL now?"

Jason shrugged defiantly.

Miles continued, "They find you they're liable to shoot you. Given Monroe's recent spate of breathtakingly obtuse leadership, I'm betting they shoot you on sight, skip the court martial altogether." Miles was in the mood for a speech.

"I can come up with an explanation for my absence." Jason crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

"Oh yeah? And what will you do when it comes time for us to confront and kill Monroe?" Miles growled. He knew he shouldn't be this angry at the kid who saved his life, but for some reason, he couldn't help it.

"I'll help. I want to see that son of bitch fall from power the same as you," Jason responded evenly.

"Mm-hm, yeah, the militia will definitely take you back after you help to assassinate their general," Miles said sarcastically. He continued to look fiercely into Jason's eyes. "And what about your father?"

Jason stood up even straighter. "What about my father?"

"I see him, I kill him on sight. Have to," Miles said coldly.

Jason instinctively put his hand on his knife, and in the same instant, Miles' hand closed down to prevent Jason from drawing it.

"Stop this!" Charlie shrieked and got in between the two men she loved for the second time this trip.

"No one said anything about killing my father, Charlie," Jason said to her, refusing to take his eyes off Miles. Jason was conflicted about his father, but he wasn't about to let anyone threaten his family. "If you lay one finger on my father, old man…"

Miles tightened his grip on Jason's hand painfully at the insult. It rang too true with how decrepit Miles felt on this day.

Aaron knew that he held information relevant to this dispute, and despite his apprehension, stepped forward to share it. "I heard what Neville said to Miles, Jason. He said that he'd do whatever was in his power to kill Miles after what Miles did to his wife."

At Aaron's words, Jason lunged forward past Charlie and closed his hand around Miles' neck. In a split second, Miles collapsed his chin, dropped to his knees, and took out Jason by the legs. The two rolled in the snow furiously, but Miles had gotten the upper hand from the element of surprise and twisted Jason's hands behind his back. He shoved the young man's face into the wet.

Jason could tell Miles was weak, but the weight of the man's sizable body kept him pinned. Jason thought to himself that if he really wanted to, he could probably force Miles off, but honestly, he couldn't do it without hurting Miles' legs. And now that Jason had a moment to think more clearly, he didn't want to upset Charlie.

Charlie was tearing up in rage. "Get…off…him, Miles!" her voice shook with every word.

"No. He tried to choke me!" Miles protested. "And he called me old," he grumbled in a low voice.

"He also saved your life," Danny said suddenly. "Get off of him, now." Miles felt a small prick at his neck. Now Danny was poking him with a Swiss army knife.

"Danny!" Charlie cried.

But Miles actually laughed (a touch manically). This had become a farce. Miles dropped the scruff of Jason's neck and got off, dusting the snow from his pants and cringing at the contact with his legs. He glared at Danny, but was also a bit impressed. He didn't think Danny would have stabbed him, but at least Danny was standing up for himself.

Jason stood, covered in snow, and put his hands on his hips. "What did you do to my mother?" he demanded, his amber eyes flashing.

"She was a hostage," Miles said, trying to blow him off. "I had to get Nora and Aaron and Charlie back."

"So if you hadn't gotten what you wanted, you would have killed her?" Jason pressed.

Miles turned away from Jason. "If that's what it would have taken to get back Charlie, then yes." He stared off into the distance. "Look kid, I know Julia, just like I know your father. It wouldn't be my first choice to harm either of them. That's what none of you seem to understand about this." He stopped himself. No point in getting emotional. No point in trying to make them understand.

Rachel asked, "What don't we understand?"

Miles turned back around and said this to Jason: "I trained your father. I chose him for leadership. He was part of my cadre and that means a lot to me. But he is poised to carry on Monroe's legacy. Kid, I know you don't want to see it, but you've got to face it!" Miles insisted.

Miles had no idea how much Jason _did_ see it. But he snapped at Miles, "Well maybe someone should have killed you, before you built the damn Republic in the first place! This is _your_ fault, not my father's. He's doing his job!" _Viciously, perhaps too willingly...but doing his job_, Jason thought.

Jason's words cut to the quick. Miles shut his mouth.

Charlie looked back and forth between the men. "We need to move on. Let's go," she decided resolutely.

Miles snatched his stuff from the snow. "Gladly."

He walked on ahead, shaking. He hated to admit it, but ever since his wounding he was unnerved - weaker not just physically but mentally.


	14. Chapter 14

That evening they were lucky enough to find an abandoned house on the outskirts of a small town; it was too cold for sleeping outside. Aaron and Danny built a fire in the dusty fireplace, while Miles did belabored pushups in the corner. Charlie watched him, blowing on her hands to warm them up. Rachel was outside gathering more wood. Jason sat in the kitchen, making a scraping sound that sounded ominously like he was sharpening his knife.

Miles' face was red, and he was puffing. Charlie had lost count of how many pushups he'd done. Finally, he got up and stretched toward the ceiling.

Charlie questioned him with her eyes, and he came over and sat by her on the couch in front of the fire that was slowly smoking to life.

"Gotta get back in shape, Charlie," he said as a way of answering.

She glanced down at his legs. "Does it hurt?"

Miles was touched and surprised by this young woman. She was a bottomless pit of compassion. He'd never known anyone like her.

"I'll be ok."

"We can slow down - "

"I'll be ok, Charlie," he cut her off briskly but not cruelly. "We have to reach Philly by the end of this week. I need to find out what the resistance is planning, where Monroe is."

"What are we going to do about that? Shouldn't we join forces with the rebels? We have before."

Miles sighed. "Yeah, and look where that got us. You almost died," his voice cracked on the final word. "I'm not sure, Charlie…there's no way the rebels can beat both the Monroe Militia and the Georgians. There will be anarchy…What do you think?"

Charlie widened her eyes in surprise. Aaron and Danny exchanged glances. "You've never asked for my input before," Charlie responded.

"Well I am now. I'm telling you, I don't know what to do."

"Nora…" Charlie began.

"Nora's made up her mind," Miles said tersely.

Rachel had come back inside, her arms laden with white birch braches. "Can we stop the Georgians from coming?" she asked.

Charlie nodded, "And then use the resistance's help to take down Monroe without the outside threat."

Miles thought on this. At the very least, they needed to get the Georgians out of the picture. "Jason," Miles said suddenly.

Jason walked slowly into the room.

Miles said to him, "You have to warn Monroe about the Georgians. There's your in with the militia. You have life-saving intelligence. Tell them you were off…pursuing Charlie and while with her, you got the information. It's the truth, really. Just leave out the part about the pendant this time," he added, glaring.

Charlie objected, "No! It's too dangerous. You said they'd shoot him on sight."

Miles shrugged. "I don't know that."

Jason nodded after a spell. "I'll do it."

Charlie was flooded with inner turmoil. The space of a moment had taken her from pride in her uncle's confidence to emotional devastation at the potential loss of Jason. And this was her life since leaving the village, she thought. The life of adventure she had once so longed for.

The sun had set on their conversation. Miles suggested that they all bed down for the night, until he realized that Rachel was no longer among the party. Perhaps she had gone for more wood. He went out looking for her but didn't have to venture far. She was standing alone in the dark, staring at the trees, her shoulders burdened with some invisible weight.

Miles didn't approach too closely. Something about her demeanor troubled him. "What's wrong, Rachel?" he asked.

Rachel glanced back with tears in her eyes, but she didn't answer.

"Come inside and get some sleep," Miles urged.

"Can't sleep," her voice quavered. And then she almost laughed at herself, at her own dramatic breakdown now beheld by an unwelcome audience.

Miles came closer and put his hand on her shoulder.

"I just can't stop _feeling_ him - Strausser," she almost whispered to him.

Miles let his hand drop to his side. He had suspected that Strausser had raped her, but this confirmation unleashed a tidal wave of bile that almost strangled him. He turned away from her to have a moment, knowing his own wrath was not going to help calm her down.

Finally he said in a low, rumbling voice, "I should have killed that bastard when I had the chance. We confronted him outside of Philly right before we came to get you." He was thinking about the moment when he had helped Mia escape and abandoned the chance to remain behind and clash with Strausser. If he could have stopped that psychopath from hurting Rachel, he'd have risked anything.

Rachel looked into Miles' eyes and saw intense pain and fury. "It was already too late by then, Miles."

"I know, I just…it would have felt good to tear him apart with my own hands!" Miles' dark eyes flashed.

"It did feel good," Rachel said hollowly.

"I guess you deserved to be the one to do it," Miles acceded.

"Miles…How do you live with something like this?" Rachel said, barely moving her lips.

The question startled Miles.

"What?"

"How do _you_ live with it?" she asked pointedly, confirming his fear that she was referring to his own biography.

Miles had never spoken to anyone about the specifics of what he'd endured as a prisoner of war in Afghanistan, outside of confessing he'd shit himself when trying to distract Aaron. He didn't like the idea that people had been guessing. But he supposed that he had alluded to the content of the torture back on that impossibly cold day in Chicago to Rachel, when she had been so desperate to help. God damn, if they weren't bonded to each other now by the sick things humans had done to their bodies. Just a body, he had told himself, but what to tell Rachel to heal her brokenness? There was no remedy for the pain, only time.

Miles stared off silently for a long time, and Rachel feared she had pushed him too far, gotten too personal.

Finally he said, "I haven't slept one night since then without dreaming some version of those four months…except for on some of the nights I spent with Nora."

"So you're telling me sleeping with someone with erase the memory?" Rachel wiped her nose with a frozen hand.

"No, I'm telling you that being with someone I loved helped me to sleep _some_ nights _some_ of the time."

"Loved. Do you still…love her?"

The question seared Miles. Yes, he did love Nora. He couldn't explain this strange development in his life - loving two women at once, well, being cognizant of loving two women at once. One seemed so similar to him that she was almost an extension of his body, and the other standing before him remained so much a mystery, although he had known her far longer. In the marine corps, he thought the mystique that had surrounded women when he was a teenager had fallen away. He'd trained with woman, fought with them. They had done all the things he had had to: eat on command, crap on command, part with friends, dig body parts out of rubble. But this woman, this scientist, he'd never cracked.

Miles decided to answer: "Nora will always have a piece of me. But the life I had with her, I blew. And now she's off…" he shuddered. "I thought I got a second chance, but it was more like a ghost of the past. We've moved in different directions. I can't support the resistance. I can't be involved with the rise of a new power. I can't be involved with _any_ power anymore. It's not safe. For anyone. I have to help take down Monroe, and then I have to leave."

Rachel cocked her head slightly at him. "Or a general like you is exactly what we need, just with a civilian power to dominate the military. Such is democracy. Bass as your government…was that the real problem?"

Miles shook his head. "Stop."

"I'm serious, Miles. You're not like him. You're not like Ben either. Leading comes as naturally as breathing to you. I believe that you _tried_ to do what was best. I believe that now. I wasn't sure before."

"Why are you sure now?" Miles asked miserably. _I'm not even sure, _he added to himself.

Rachel walked over and tucked herself into his arms. Miles allowed himself to embrace her in his utter bewilderment at her unexpected approach.

"I don't know. Seeing Charlie trust you…despite everything she knows. I trust Charlie, and so I trust you," Rachel explained.

Miles shook his head. "_She_ should lead then," he mumbled into Rachel's hair. Once he'd said it, he realized that he believed it. He kissed the crown of Rachel's head. After all this time, he simply couldn't help himself.


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: Well lovelies, the end of this story has come to me in a vision. So I'm estimating that it will end its chapterage somewhere around 20 / early 20s. For now, enjoy this installment, and don't think by any means that Miles doesn't have more lady angst ahead of him. I do love to torture the poor guy! I know Rachel pushes buttons for some, but don't give up on me just yet. ;)_

* * *

Miles and Rachel came in from the cold, just as Charlie suggested, "How about the younger crowd keeps watch tonight…you guys get some rest." She looked with particular concern at Miles, whose breathing had sounded more like Danny's on the day's journey. She hoped uninterrupted sleep would restore him to the Miles she knew.

Miles pondered her offer. "Ok. I'm going to sack out upstairs. Yell if you hear anything. In the meantime, try not to die."

Charlie rolled her eyes.

Aaron quickly agreed to a night's sleep, and trailed Miles up the stairs. He was exhausted from the cold.

But Rachel remained downstairs for a spell, hoping to speak to her daughter. When she tried to sit by Charlie on the couch, Charlie got up and walked into the kitchen. Defeated, Rachel eventually followed the men upstairs. There were two closed doors on the landing. She listened outside of the first and heard the tell-tale heavy footfall of Aaron. She padded quietly to the other door and knocked, unsure of herself.

"Come in," Miles grunted.

Rachel entered to see that Miles had pulled up his blanket to his chin, revealing only a pale floating head with signature salt and pepper scruff. It was significantly colder up here than nearby the fire, and Rachel shivered violently.

"Mind if I sleep in here? I wanted to talk to Charlie, but she didn't seem interested. God, it's freezing, Miles! How are you standing it?"

Miles lifted the edge of his blanket in invitation. The gesture caught her off guard. He waited patiently, lying on his back, and finally said, "I won't bite."

Rachel took off her shoes and got under the blankets with him. Warmth rushed off his body onto hers, and she fought the urge to snuggle into his side, remaining on her back. Miles had his eyes closed.

"Try not to touch my legs," he requested gently. She realized he was just in his boxers and long sleeve shirt.

His words awed her with the memory of his extensive injuries. She wondered what his legs looked like. Even before the blackout, his body had been mangled by war.

From this close she could smell Miles, and the scent of him did something to her that she was ashamed to admit. She swallowed. After awhile she heard Miles breathing evenly, signifying sleep. She realized then that she had been holding her breath, every muscle in her body tensed. She tried to relax, and turned on her side to face Miles, who radiated heat like a brick out of the oven. Just as she did so, Miles shifted in his sleep to face her, his grizzled face resting peacefully on his hand just inches from hers.

Rachel hadn't slept with a man since Ben, and Miles' resemblance to Ben in slumber brought tears to her eyes and, worse yet, more desire. She finally admitted to herself that she wanted Miles. It seemed to be bubbling up from an ancient part of her core, like it had always been there. And maybe it had. God help her, maybe it had. After some hesitation, she leaned forward, entangling her upper body with his, and rested her head under his chin. Miles wrapped his arms around her in sleep. She was careful to keep her legs away. Being held by Miles was exquisite. She gave into the feeling and slept.

* * *

"Mom? Miles? How could you!?" Charlie's voice wrenched Rachel from a dead sleep. It was morning, Rachel discerned from the piercing white light assaulting her sensitive eyes.

Miles didn't emerge from the blanket, but he was already speaking carefully. "Charlie, this isn't what it looks like. We were keeping warm."

"So sleep by the fire, you son of a bitch!" she cried, tears stinging her eyes.

"Charlie!" Miles called. "Damnit."

Charlie had already fled down the staircase, and Miles got up quickly, yanking his pants over his ruined legs and wincing in pain. He paused for a moment to look at Rachel, who lay there stunned.

"Rachel," Miles said. Then anger overtook his features. "Rachel!" he bellowed.

"What!" she yelled back.

"Go after Charlie and fix things with her, for God's sake. She's your daughter. What are you doing?"

"I've tried."

"No…no. You haven't." Miles snatched his bedroll, backpack, and swords and stomped down the stairs.

Rachel sobbed once, violently. And then she collected herself. She hated being told she was a bad mother by Miles. But he was right.

Rachel came down the stairs to see only Aaron and Jason standing there, looking helpless.

"Where's my family?" she demanded, hostility in her tone. Aaron shook his head.

Rachel set off into the cold, tromping through the snow, blinded by her own pain. Suddenly a hand grabbed her and pulled her behind a tree. It was Miles. He put his fingers to his lips. He signaled ahead to where Rachel saw Danny and Charlie crouching. _Up, up_! he was pointing emphatically with his finger, as her two children stared back at him wide-eyed. Rachel didn't have time to understand, as Miles was now pushing her by the ass into the tree. He climbed into the tree across from her and was signaling at Charlie again: _use your cross bow_. Charlie and Danny had climbed their own tree, legs dangling vulnerably. Charlie nodded, looking petrified, and then five militia soldiers came into view.

Miles was counting down with his fingers, while Charlie watched him unblinking. Three, two...when he reached one, Charlie shot one, two men, while Miles leapt down from the tree onto a third's shoulders. The man plummeted to the ground. To Rachel's dismay, Danny had descended onto another soldier and was wrestling with him. Miles sliced through his own enemy and was onto the fifth man as well as Danny's opponent simultaneously, wielding both swords at once. In a moment, the remaining men were dead. Danny was breathing heavily but unharmed except for a bloodied lip.

They all sat panting, and Rachel finally jumped out of her tree. She was impressed and a touch disturbed by the symbiosis Charlie and Miles appeared to have in battle.

"Do _not_ go running off like that!" Miles panted at Charlie. "I don't care if you're angry. If you're pissed, come take a swing at me. Yell something at my face!" Miles raged. "But don't run off and get yourself killed!"

"Miles, that's enough," Rachel snapped at him, and he shut his mouth. She faced her children and stood up straight. "Danny, Charlie. I know you're upset with me, but you owe it to me to hear me out." Rachel tried not to look at the human carnage lying all around them, reddening the snow. It shamed her to think what animals humans - even her own children - had become.

"Do we?" Charlie challenged, hands on hips.

"Yes, you do. Because I'm your mother. I love you, and I gave up everything to keep you safe. Everything!" Rachel insisted, a touch defensively.

"You left us!" Charlie lashed out.

"Charlie!" Miles said sharply. "Show your mother some respect. She left, because I made her do it! It was the only way I could think to protect you kids. So be angry at me, not at her. Please," he added in a low voice. "She doesn't deserve this. I do."

Rachel looked at Miles in wonder. He was protecting her, as if they were…but she couldn't allow herself to think of them in that way.

Danny said to Rachel, "What I don't understand is why you were living in luxury when I saw you. Eating fancy food, drinking wine, a nice room with all the books you could want…why would you get all of that stuff if you were just a prisoner?"

"Because, Danny, Bass knew me. He knew and loved our family. The part you didn't see was the torture - some physical, some psychological. The worst thing he did was to make you two doubt me. It's the part where Monroe still has power over me, over our family even now." Rachel was trying very hard not to cry - to be strong for her children. To will them to understand how important it was for them to reconcile so that Monroe didn't ultimately win.

Miles stood there tension coursing through his veins, wondering if he should intervene again. But predictably, Charlie wowed him with her generosity.

"Mom," Charlie said in a voice that broke. "It was just so hard without you. There were some things in life that I wanted a mother for, and I didn't have one. And then dad moved on to Maggie…"

"Who?" Rachel asked glancing at Miles.

He shook his head at her, giving her a look that said he'd explain later.

"Mom," Danny said, his voice trembling. He crossed over to Rachel and allowed her to gather him in her arms.

Rachel gazed over Danny's head at Charlie. Charlie bit her lip, as a few tears welled up in her eyes. She swallowed them and walked over to her mother and brother and embraced them both. Rachel's tears released and flowed freely down her cheeks.

"C'mere, stupid," Charlie said to Miles in a perfect parrot of how Miles would have said it to her. Charlie pulled him by the coat sleeve over to them, and after a moment's hesitation, Miles put his arms around the outside of Charlie. His hand just reached to Rachel's arm, which he grasped firmly. He looked into Rachel's eyes over the kids' heads, and they stared at one another - feeling traitorous to Ben, feeling elation at the sensation of family, feeling utterly lost and grounded at the same time. Miles closed his eyes and leaned on Charlie's head.

"Don't call me stupid, Charlie," he said softly to her. Then he grinned into her hair.

Charlie burst out laughing, sending tears and mucous flying in all directions.

"Ew, enough hugging! Charlie shot a snot rocket on me!" Danny protested, pushing them all away.

Everyone laughed.

Danny asked seriously, "So can we get the hell the out of here?"

Rachel shot him a disapproving look for his language. "Now you're both starting to sound like Miles," she protested.

Miles shrugged with a touch of pride and led the way back toward the house.

When they got there, Aaron was packing up.

"Where's Jason?" Charlie asked casually.

Aaron looked at her with sympathetic eyes, and her smile instantly melted. "He left you this, Charlie." It was a small, silver heart charm, presumably from a necklace. "He said it belongs to his mother, and he takes it on campaign for luck."

"What? He didn't even stay to say goodbye?" she said in disbelief. "What if they kill him for deserting, and I never see him again?"

"Charlie…" Aaron began to try to deliver Jason's explanation.

"No! I don't want to hear his excuses. He left because he was too much of a coward to say goodbye!"

"Charlie, you're really quick to accuse people of being cowardly," Miles interjected. "Look, I'm no fan of the guy, but he was right to leave as soon as possible. We're running out of time." Then Miles mumbled almost to himself: "Kid lifted me out of a steaming pile of rubble; seemed pretty brave to me."

Charlie shot him a look. "Fine! Let's get this over with! Where are we going, Miles?"

He sighed deeply. "To find Nora and her merry band of idiots."

As if their task weren't already daunting enough, now that something deeply weird was taking place between him and Rachel, Miles was dreading seeing Nora almost as much as trying to defeat a fleet of blackhawks and tanks with two muskets, a rifle, and a bunch of untrained, sentimental fools. He feared he was becoming almost as bad as them with his pathetic legs and his own recent foray into emotional purgatory.


	16. Chapter 16

By the evening, they were within striking distance of Philly. Miles went out to wash alone, soaking up the remaining daylight. It had warmed enough throughout the day that the snow on the ground had mostly melted. He took off his shirt and tossed it aside, splashing water onto his armpits and his face. He could still smell himself, but it was too cold to strip down anymore. He heard something behind him and grabbed his swords, hurling his body around to confront his invisible enemy.

"Jesus, Rachel! Announce yourself," Miles grumbled. He tossed his weapons down with a little more force than necessary. Nora wouldn't have been so stupid to approach him without warning. He reached for his shirt and began pulling it roughly over his head. These days he was oddly embarrassed to be seen without a shirt on. In addition to his torso being riddled with puckered scars, his prominent M tattoo was hardly something he liked reminding people he had. With Nora, it had just been part of him - something neutral. With Rachel, after what she'd suffered at Monroe's hands, it felt like the devil's emblem.

Rachel was watching him carefully. "The others are scrounging together some food. I said I'd come find you." She sat down on the hard dirt and drew her knees to her chin, her golden hair just catching the resigning sun.

"Well, you found me," Miles said dryly. He walked over to her and offered his hands to help her up, but she didn't take them. Miles cocked his head at her.

"Miles, what's happening between us?" Rachel asked pointedly.

_Women_, Miles thought. _They always had to define everything, as if things didn't exist until you said them._

He exhaled and plopped down next to her. He turned his head to look at her, and she was gazing slyly back at him.

"Feels wrong to want you so much," Rachel shrugged and half smiled.

Miles swallowed. She was more forward about the situation than he'd expected. As much as he wanted to take this as an invitation, he found that he couldn't move a muscle. This was forbidden. This was his brother's wife. He forgot to breathe.

"Relax, Miles. I'm not going to pounce," she looked away.

He turned her face back toward him and kissed her ever so lightly. It was incredible gentleness from a man so capable of destruction. She took off her jacket and lay back on the frozen earth, inviting whatever came next. Miles leaned over her, propped up on one hand and his other hand resting on her stomach. His touch sent chills of desire down her abdomen.

Miles found he was timid with this woman, a very strange sensation. With Nora he had always been so ravenous; their passion for each other had been equally consuming. But here, he couldn't stop thinking about Rachel as a mother, which was an incredibly odd thought to be having when all signs pointed to the fact that they were about to have sex. Miles wasn't sure how to proceed. He tucked his face into her neck and laughed a little.

"What's funny?" Rachel asked, giggling - nervous herself.

"I feel like I've never done this before," he answered, shaking his head.

"Well since I know who you lost your virginity to in high school, I'm certain that's not the case," Rachel quipped.

"Aw, how could you bring up Joan Kim at a time like this!" Miles moved off of Rachel and lay on his back. He ran his hand over his face and instantly felt the weight of woman press into his body. He completely forgot Joan Kim. His breath was taken away and not because Rachel was pressing almost uncomfortably into his chest. He had never felt so incredibly emotional about the prospect of being with someone before.

Rachel ran the back of her hand over his cheek. "Miles. Are we going to do this?"

Miles closed his eyes briefly, trying not to choke. He thought about how long he had wanted Rachel and how long he had buried his feelings for her. Then he pulled her into him, kissing her like a rushed teenager who was trying not to get caught in the act by his parents.

Then all of a sudden, Miles just stopped. Rachel was breathing heavily and gasped, "What?" She thought perhaps they were being ambushed by intruders.

Miles gently pushed her off. His desire was emptied and now replaced by cold, devouring remorse. "I can't do this to Ben…or to Charlie. Doesn't feel right." He got up and rearranged his disheveled clothing. "I'm sorry, Rachel." He briskly helped her up with one hand.

Guilt and rejection clouded Rachel's ability to think as she put on her coat. She nodded. "Ok…so we're just supposed to be lonely forever?" she almost whispered.

"Lonely…maybe. Lonely in the mistakes we've made. But not alone," Miles offered, thinking of Charlie. They began walking back toward camp. _The mistakes_, Miles thought. "What did you and Ben do exactly, Rachel?" he asked almost hesitantly.

Rachel didn't answer. Instead a sudden memory flooded her consciousness, resulting in a long silence, during which Miles simply waited, walking in silence.

In the memory, Miles was driving his Challenger, looking oddly incongruous in a black suit. Rachel had never seen him in a tie before. Bass was hanging out the window, blowing a stream of smoke and winking at some women in the car next to them. From the back seat, Rachel saw Miles cast a concerned glance at Bass. Bass looked back at Miles and blew a tremendous plume right into his face. The sweet stench of the pot was making Rachel vaguely sick to her stomach in these close quarters.

Miles waved away the smoke. "C'mon Bass, not when I'm driving."

"Hey whend'ya get so straight laced, man?" Bass complained. Miles didn't respond, and they drove on. Rachel could see Miles' jaw twitching.

She tried to surreptitiously pull up her black hose, which had drooped down uncomfortably, but caught Miles' eye in the rearview mirror. They both turned away in embarrassment.

Rachel grew preoccupied thinking about the kids. Ben was meeting them at the site, and Rachel just hoped Ben would have thought to tie back Charlie's hair, so she didn't look like a wild child in front of company. He never seemed to notice such things, but she hated imaging people criticizing her mothering behind her back.

Miles pulled over to park by a line of enormous shade trees. "We're here," he announced. His words hung like a pall over the car.

Bass put a shaking hand over his now ghostly pale face. "You guys go on, I'm…I'll wait here," he said, his voice shattering into instability.

Miles turned Bass' face to peer into it. "How fucked up are you, Bass? Jesus, you're baked. Well, you'll have to do. Let's go."

Bass turned away. "Can't, Miles," his voice continued breaking, and even from the backseat Rachel felt his agony. She fought to keep herself balanced. She wanted to curl up and die, and it wasn't even her family who had been snuffed out in an instant by a drunk driver.

"Bass, you have to do this," Miles said evenly.

"Why? _Why_ do I have to watch them put a bunch of boxes into the ground, Miles? What good will it do me?" Bass pleaded, making what Rachel thought was a decent point.

But Miles valiantly plowed ahead with encouragement. "I dunno, we bury people, because we're human. It's what we do. Closure…or something," he explained.

"Then you go - get your closure," Bass replied, sinking into his seat.

Desperation finally crept into Miles' voice: "Bass, if I could carry this load even for a minute so you wouldn't have to, I would. You know I would! But I can't do this for you. You _have_ to come to your family's funeral."

Miles got out and pulled the seat forward so Rachel could follow. She went around to Bass' side and opened his door. God, she hoped she didn't reek of pot. (Later at the funeral, a strange look from Ben would confirm she did.) She offered her arm to Bass and fought to hold it steady. "Come on, Bass. We'll be right here." She helped Bass out of his seat, and Miles took his best friend's other arm. On the way to the gravesite, they occasionally had to lift his body over the ground, as if he were incorporeal.

Hours later at the wake, when others were inside eating Bundt cake and getting wasted on whiskey and wine, Rachel found Miles outside smoking a (regular) cigarette with a shaking hand. He was sitting on the steps, and she sank down next to him. Her hose had descended again, and this time, she kicked off her shoes and lifted her skirt enough to unroll them, tossing them aside.

"Hey," she said to Miles.

Miles was clearly fighting tears. He watched her remove her pantyhose with a tragic expression.

"It's ok to cry, you know. It is a wake. People expect it," Rachel offered, extricating his cigarette from his fingers and taking a puff. She returned it to his quivering lips. She noticed that he had nicked himself shaving; an angry red cut stretched across the seam where his face met his neck.

Miles shook his head. "Have to be strong for Bass. This is not about me."

She shrugged and exhaled the smoke she'd been holding in. "It's so goddamned unfair."

Miles gazed briefly at her. "Has nothing to do with fair or not fair. It's life. Fucked up things happen. Though maybe not to you," he mumbled a bit unkindly.

"You think my life is perfect and easy!" she cried indignantly.

"I didn't say it was easy. I said fucked up things don't seem to happen to you." Miles stared straight ahead.

"Oh, you mean like having a son who almost died in my womb? Who's still so desperately ill that I don't even remember what it's like to sleep. Or having a marriage that's…"

Miles looked at her sharply, so she didn't continue down that road.

"Or how about the fact that I've sold my integrity to the Department of Defense?" she finished instead.

Miles glanced at her.

Rachel swallowed audibly. "You think this is fucked up, Miles, you have no idea what the government's capable of. No idea how much worse things could get."

Miles scrutinized her. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," she said, quickly getting up and snatching her pantyhose. She moved to reenter the house.

Miles made to follow her and stamped out his cigarette, just as a small blonde girl came bursting out the front door. "Mommy!" Charlie cried. "Mommy, mommy!" Her hair indeed looked like a squirrel's nest.

"Uncle Miles! You look sad," Charlie said, gazing up at him with concern. She put up her arms to request that he lift her. He obliged and put her all the way on his shoulders just like she preferred. She patted his hair like he was her dolly.

"I am sad, Charlie," Miles explained.

"Why?" her tiny voice chirped from above.

Miles exchanged the briefest of glances with Rachel. "Sometimes people just feel sad, Charlie."

Rachel coaxed herself back into the present where she was walking toward camp with an older and still sad Miles. Despite his rejection of her, she could tell that Miles wanted her, probably had even wanted her back then. She knew desire when she saw it. But she feared he wanted her because he saw her as an ideal - as the antithesis to his own fucked up life. Despite Miles' somber world experience and realistic view of life's tragedies, somehow he remained an idealist. He had to be, or he wouldn't have tried to build the Monroe Republic. And now, she had to give him an answer that would shatter his vision of her and of Ben, just when he was starting to find his own goodness. _What had she and Ben done?_

Rachel finally spoke, after what seemed like an eternity of silence. "We and a group of our colleagues created and then sold the DOD a device that could extinguish the power, using magnetism." She almost smiled, it sounded so ludicrous. "Ben arranged the meeting…but I agreed to it. Hell, I signed on the dotted line relinquishing the technology for whatever purpose they deemed necessary."

Miles looked at her sharply. "But…why?" he knew that he'd never understand _how_. His grasp of physics was far too feeble. And it wasn't the how that mattered.

"For money….for the love of our children."

Miles shook his head in disgust. "Which was it?"

"They were the same thing, Miles."

Miles licked his lips. He wasn't sure how to process this information, but camp was in sight. He walked swiftly away from Rachel toward where Charlie was inspecting her crossbow. Charlie grinned at him, and Miles' heart ached for her. She was a sheep amidst the wolves. Or maybe that wasn't fair. Maybe she was stronger than all of them.

* * *

"Mother!" Jason said, approaching from behind, as Julia brushed her hair in the mirror of her vanity. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

Julia had jumped and dropped her brush. "Jason!" She turned around and swept over to her son, gathering him in her arms. "Where on earth have you been? You can't be here. It's too dangerous. There are guards watching the house to see if you'd return. How did you even get in here?"

"I'm stealthy, mother. It's what I do," Jason half smiled. "Look…I don't know how else to say this except to be blunt. I left to protect Charlie, but I am back to kill Monroe."

Julia's eyes widened, and she sat back down abruptly.

Jason continued: "But first, I need to get the militia a message that the Georgia Federation is going to attack at the end of this week from the southeast. It's very important that they prevent that from happening…given the impending instability that will follow."

Julia gripped the arms of the chair but remained collected. "What instability?"

"The instability that will result from me taking out the head of the Monroe Republic," Jason replied matter-of-factly.

Julia paused before responding so quietly that Jason had to strain to hear. "I agree that Monroe must go. But why does it have to be you? They'll have your head on a pike for it! If you've been with the Mathesons again, then you must know their plans. Doesn't Miles intend to finish Monroe? Why not let him do it? Let him die for it, the son of a bitch."

Jason shook his head. "Miles had his chances and failed twice. I don't believe he _can_ do it. Also…father's in danger as long as Matheson is around."

"Matheson's in danger as long as _I'm_ around," she corrected in a chilly tone.

"Mother, you stay out of this. I need you to be safe."

Julia took Jason's hand and pressed it to her cheek. "Jason…I love you so much. Please be careful."

Jason tried to smile, but he felt sick. The chances of achieving his task were slim. "Tell Father to deliver this letter immediately to Monroe," Jason said, pressing a piece of parchment into her hand.


	17. Chapter 17

"Nora," Miles said, wanting so badly to touch her, but restraining himself. They were in the rebel camp several miles outside of Philadelphia, standing around a smoldering fire in a trash barrel. Nora's people had accumulated numbers that surpassed Miles' expectations. There might have been a thousand rebels. This was going to be a climactic battle. Surely they had already attracted Monroe's attention, and an attack might be imminent at any moment.

A strong, dark-skinned young man in a red bandana who had accompanied Nora to greet the party was explaining, "We can get our hands on a few more tanks, if you can help them run with your pendant."

Miles looked accusingly at Nora, as if to say, _You told this joker about the pendants_? She glared at him.

The man continued, "I'm Lt. Johnny Dixon, by the way. And Monroe has more than one pendant now. Our people are trying to recover one right now. It's located about a mile south, where the militia has been preparing tanks for transport."

Miles groaned in frustration. "Then why are we sitting here? Let's go intercept them!"

Nora stayed him. "Our people are on it."

"Your people?" Miles approached Nora closer than was wise.

She pushed him forcefully back with her hand, just as Johnny was about to intervene. Miles glanced at Johnny and realized in a second that his protectiveness was from more than passing acquaintance. They had to be sleeping together.

Miles twitched. He unleashed some of his mounting ire on Johnny: "Have you organized your troops into platoons, companies? Have you trained them for combat? Are they ready for a battle in which they'll surely be outnumbered, facing aircraft and vehicles…who's in charge of this rebel operation anyway?" Miles demanded.

"Our commanding general has army experience," Johnny said defensively. He crossed his arms and stood up to his full height - significantly shorter than even the slouched Miles.

"Army. Great!" Miles scoffed.

"What were you, a _sergeant_ in the marine corps? General Davies was an adjutant general," Johnny challenged.

"Oh fantastic: a _desk job_ in the army. Glorified human resources. This will go well." Miles rolled his eyes. "Don't forget, I built and trained that entire militia force you'll be facing. You'd be smart to listen to me. And when are you planning to attack? If not soon, the militia will beat you to it. They've probably only delayed this long because of Georgia."

Nora's eyes widened. "You told them about Georgia!" she cried accusingly.

"Not me. Jason."

"God damn you, Matheson," Nora turned away in frustration.

"Jason took off of his own free will, Nora. Besides, you'll thank him later. Believe me."

Johnny gazed in horror. He turned to Nora. "I'd better tell the general that Georgia's off. That'll reduce our odds of victory."

Miles rolled his eyes at him. "No, it reduces your odds of being conquered by Georgia. It does nothing to your pathetic odds against the militia."

Johnny made to get in Miles' space, but Nora held him back.

"Go on. Get close, buddy. Good idea," Miles threatened.

Nora scowled, and Johnny walked away.

Then Miles said to Nora, "Well come on; let's go find out how the little operation to recover the other pendant is going."

Nora muttered, "asshole," under her breath, but made to follow him, which Miles took as a sign that she didn't think the rebels could recover the pendant without their help either.

"Stupid name: Johnny," Miles grumbled, as they walked away. "What, were you looking for a younger model?"

Nora stared straight ahead. No point in talking to Miles when he was acting like a jealous, insecure little shit.

Miles waved for the rest of his group to follow: Aaron, Danny, and Charlie. No Rachel. That was worrisome, Miles thought. He figured she taken what had happened between them pretty hard. It wasn't that he hadn't wanted her, but that he needed to do right. He didn't want to risk pushing Charlie away.

Charlie, who had been listening to the conversation between Miles, Nora, and Johnny, was shaking her head at the way her uncle was acting. He wasn't going to gain the rebel's trust and compliance acting like a jerk. It was clear to Charlie that if Miles didn't lead the rebels in battle, they didn't have a chance.

Miles whispered to Nora as they walked up to Charlie, "So how long did it take for you to go and sleep with someone else?"

Nora had had it. "Can you guys give us a moment?" she asked in a clipped tone.

Nora waited for the group to be out of earshot. "What the fuck is your problem, Miles? If I remember correctly, _you_ broke it off with me when I told you I was coming here. Now you are here to - what - help? _Are_ you going to help, or are you going to get in our way?"

Miles put his hands on his hips. "I need some assurance that you guys won't…"

"That we won't what?" Nora demanded.

"That you won't make the militia pay for Monroe's sins...or mine for that matter."

"The militia's not yours anymore, Miles," she sighed.

"But Nora, they're just soldiers doing their jobs. Look, chances are very slim you're going to win a battle. But if you do…just tell me that you'll do this right. Promise me, Nora, that your people will restore elections immediately. Our word's the only thing we've got out here."

Nora swallowed and looked into Miles' earnest dark eyes. "I promise that our goal is to defeat the militia just enough to bring back democracy, Miles. And I promise that we will treat any surrendering forces with fairness."

"Then…I'll help."

Nora nodded, and they walked on.

"So how long did it take you to move on from me to him?" Miles returned to their previous topic.

"How long did it take you to sleep with Rachel?" Nora came back. Miles pursed his lips. Nora added, "I see the way you look at her."

"We didn't."

Nora shook her head in disbelief. She knew from experience how difficult Miles was to resist if he wanted you. In fact, she was barely resisting him right now, and she hated herself for it.

"I'm serious," Miles insisted. "It almost happened…but I'm tired of betraying people."

Nora asked, "You love her?"

Miles raised an eyebrow and exhaled. "Nora, that's an area of my life I can honestly say I don't comprehend. When it comes to Rachel and even Ben…I've never understood where I fit with them."

Nora believed him. He had scarcely even mentioned his family to her before she met Charlie. Clearly, Miles' feelings were complex on the matter, and dealing maturely with emotional baggage had never been his forte. She wasn't exactly sure why she then chose to reveal: "I've only slept with Johnny a few times. We're not together or anything."

"He thinks you are."

"Yeah? Well chances are none of us will live to figure any of this out anyway."

Miles snorted. "You don't know how many times I've used that as an out. It hasn't worked yet." His weak smile melted into misery. "Nope. I just keep living to fuck up more things. Sometimes just fuck up the same things over and over," he added, eying her meaningfully.

Nora shrugged. What was the point in fighting over the spilt milk of their relationship? Maybe people never really fell out of love - they just got the hell away from each other when they couldn't stand the pain anymore. She needed to focus on the problems before them right now. "The team who went to recover the pendant should be back by now. Let's hurry," she said and broke into a trot.

As Miles and Nora rushed forward, they passed where Charlie and Danny had gone to stand.

"We're coming with you!" Charlie insisted. "Where are we going?" she thought to ask, only after they had fallen in, jogging beside Nora and Miles.

"To get another pendant!" Nora explained.

By the time they reached the scene, the rebels were engaged in a fierce battle with just a few remaining militia men. The gunfire was intimidating for Charlie; she definitely preferred the clanging of swordfights. Miles and Nora were both armed with M16s and flung themselves into the fray, but Charlie and Danny hung back at Miles' request.

"Stay in the trees and use the crossbow," Miles warned.

They were fighting around the edge of a lake that looked semi-thawed from the recent warmer weather. Charlie personally took out several of the final opponents, while the rebel soldiers rounded up a few prisoners. Charlie and Danny then ran up to Miles, who despite the victory looked spitting mad.

"God damn it!" he was shouting at a rebel woman, who was equally pissed. She looked like she wanted to bite off the finger Miles was pointing aggressively at her chest.

"Hey!" Charlie interjected. "What happened?"

"This one was fighting with the soldier who had the pendant. When she got the upper hand, he tossed it in the lake!" Miles growled and crossed his arms. He took a deep breath. "Fucking, fucking fuck!" He was already dropping his swords, his coat, and taking off his boots.

"No Miles, you cannot go in there - it's freezing! Your legs!" Charlie objected.

"Seriously, Uncle Miles. Let me - I'm younger!" Danny bravely offered.

Miles shot him a withering look and marched off toward the water.

Nora stopped the Matheson kids from following. "He's a marine," she offered by way of explanation. "Probably no one here can out swim him - younger or not," she added, grinning at Danny. "Except, I'd maybe go a bit easy on him there, Danny. He's a little sensitive about his age these days."

Danny laughed but looked nervously at Miles, who dove into the frigid abyss. Miles came back up a few times coughing and sputtering like the cold might strangle him, but after the third dive, he was sloshing back to shore, his lips a disturbing shade of blue. Once on dry land, he immediately dropped to the ground to do pushups.

Charlie ran to him, but Danny looked questioningly at Nora. "Gotta get his heart rate up, Danny."

Charlie had taken off her jacket and was trying to enwrap the shivering Miles in it, who looked at her in vague surprise. Nora jogged over to join them.

"You ok, Miles?" she asked.

He nodded, his teeth chattering and handed her the pendant.

Nora couldn't help but grin. "Alright, you've made your point. Marines are tough son of a bitches. Now let's get you in one of these tanks and back to camp so you can warm up by a fire before you die of hypothermia," Nora said, draping her own coat over his head as she said so. He looked a little like a deranged Sherpa, she decided.

They all climbed in a tank, and Miles attempted to speak, "You k-k-know how to drive one of these?"

Nora said sarcastically, "Yeah, I drove tanks all the time when I was a teenage beauty queen living in Texas. I got this!"

But she did seem to figure it out with very little instruction from Miles. Danny looked on in awe.

"Nora, can you teach me how to drive a tank when we get back to camp?"

Nora smiled at Danny. "Yeah, why not? It's not very hard. And a tank is a pretty safe place to be in battle."

Miles thought to himself, _Yeah, until it hits an IED_. But he didn't say anything. They were all in trouble, tanks or not.


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: A smidge of Danny for B, a generously faithful reader and reviewer!_

* * *

Danny was in one of the stolen tanks with Nora. He felt powerful wielding this hunk of machine. He flexed his muscles as he put it into gear. The visibility was challenging, but he wanted to show Nora that he wasn't afraid - that he could and would handle this in battle tomorrow. Nora was beaming proudly at him.

"Hey, you've got the hang of this!" she exclaimed encouragingly.

Danny found Nora to be enchantingly beautiful. He couldn't understand why Miles had screwed up so many changes with her. It was evidence that his uncle didn't deserve her. She needed someone kind and chivalrous…and younger.

"Now pull the sticks back to break," she said putting her hands on them. Danny covered her hands with his own. Nora's were warm and soft and a deliciously dark shade of brown like the chocolate he barely remembered from childhood. The tank ground to a halt.

Nora smiled. _Oh dear_, she thought. Danny had it bad. But he was a harmless kid and very sweet, so why not indulge him a bit?

"Well, now all you need is a gunner and some luck," she said.

"And what you need is a man who actually treats you right," Danny suggested boldly. He had never said anything like that to a woman before, but the words escaped before he'd even had time to think.

Nora giggled. "I suppose I do, Danny. But since there seem to be none around who are available and _age appropriate_," she emphasized those two words, "I'll just have to settle for the scoundrels who love me." She winked and kissed Danny on the cheek. Then she ascended and left him sitting there, touching the place where her lips had been. He blushed and grinned.

* * *

That night a large group of rebels gathered around a bonfire, eating bits of dried meat and mealy apples. Rachel finally reappeared and sat next to Danny, who leaned on her shoulder. _My baby_, she thought. Danny seemed abnormally pleased tonight, which warmed her bitter, broken heart some. She tried very hard not to look at Miles, whose dark eyebrows and manly jaw looked so striking in the firelight.

Across from Rachel, Nora was engulfed in Johnny's arms, and Miles kept shooting them filthy glances, until Charlie plopped down next to him to distract him. She bumped his arm with her knee, and he made a brief, pouty expression at her.

"Oh look, Charlie. General's about to make a rousing speech. Be prepared to be inspired," he said acerbically, pointing at Davies, who had risen.

Charlie put her fingers to her lips to shush him. But she felt for Miles. She agreed: Miles should be leading. Anything he had to say at this point would provide crucial information for their success, and yet, no one had asked him for advice, so he kept mum. She feared things would go very badly for the rebels. It appeared everyone was suffering from a case of stupid pride.

General Davies cleared his throat. "The plan is at first light tomorrow, we draw the militia to the outskirts of Philly by artillery fire. We bombard them, and then we go in with ground assault and the tanks. Everyone knows their roles. Hold strong and by the end of tomorrow, we might be celebrating the rebirth of the United States."

Miles fought to keep from rolling his eyes. It was hard to trust that these people had even a fighting chance. Then he slung an arm over Charlie's shoulder warmly.

"Big day tomorrow, kid." He half grinned, remembering the last time they'd had this conversation outside of Philly.

"I notice you're not drinking this time," Charlie responded. She wondered why, since he wasn't the one leading troops tomorrow.

"Yeah well, maybe I've changed for the better," he teased.

"You have, Miles. You have," she said seriously, catching him off guard.

Miles decided to capitalize on the sudden mood change and dropped his arm. "Charlie, I need you to do something for me. I need you to promise."

Charlie looked at him with her wide blue eyes, the color of Lake Michigan in summer, still retaining that beautiful naïveté despite everything.

"If, by some miracle, the rebels win, press them. Make sure they hold elections and don't delay for anything. But also…don't let them give up their military; the country will need protection."

Charlie almost laughed. "Miles, what are you talking about? What makes you think I'd have any sway over the rebel leadership - me, a twenty year old? And a _Matheson_ at that! Besides, you tell them yourself when we win tomorrow."

Miles shook his head. "Whether I survive this or not, you have to promise."

"Miles, I don't understand."

Miles wasn't sure how else to explain. "Charlie, come with me. I want to show you something."

He led Charlie away from the warm glow of the fire toward where they had stashed their backpacks and bedrolls. As they walked, he thought about the time that Bass and him had been staying with Rachel and Ben and the kids for the Monroe family funeral. Miles had been sitting on the couch in their living room, having a beer and staring. Bass was upstairs in bed; he'd only been coming out to the bars at night with Miles. Ben was building a precarious tower of blocks with Charlie on the floor, while Rachel was in the kitchen trying to get Danny to eat something. Miles could tell even from where he sat that it wasn't going well.

"Danny! Do not throw your beans. Are you done? Fine, you're done." He heard Rachel scoot back the chair and Danny came staggering out to see them, smeared with brown. Despite himself, Miles cackled. Rachel gave him a look that said, _Shut it, or you get to clean him_, as she chased her toddler with a wet rag. She had beans streaked in her hair like unfortunate highlights.

Suddenly Charlie stomped on the tower she was building and began charging all around the room, side rolling and then popping up energetically. She grabbed a sock, balled it up and tossed it at Miles' head. "Grenade!" she shouted. Ben and Rachel exchanged a look. Miles noticed their expressions and sighed - it wasn't like he'd taught her that word. Kids picked that stuff up.

"Akk!" Miles played along with Charlie, after deflecting her sock with his hand.

Charlie ran over and plopped on the couch next to him. "Uncles Miles, guess what I want to be when I grow up?"

Miles cringed to think where this was going, but he said, "What Charlie?"

"A soldier! Like you."

Yep; he was in trouble. This was Ben's worst nightmare. It was why Ben generally kept Miles away from the kids. Ben immediately stood up.

"Hey Charlie, can you take your brother to the bathroom and help him brush his teeth? You do the same. It's bedtime. Try not to wake up Uncle Bass."

Charlie looked like she was about to protest, but she did as she was told. Miles stared down at his hands.

"Miles, I think it's time you and Bass left," Ben said abruptly when the kids had left. "All the drinking you two do…"

Miles protested: "Bass' family just died! I think Bass is handling it ok."

"And you? Are you handling it ok, sitting there on our couch with, what is this, two, three beers tonight? Then you'll go out and have more!"

Miles shook his head. That wasn't fair. Miles hardly drank at all at their house. Ben just didn't like the fact that they had been coming home drunk, but it was always so late, the kids weren't any wiser.

"What you don't like is that Charlie might admire me," Miles said coldly, "might admire what I do for a living."

"I can't have my children glorifying war, Miles. Look where it got Dad - being a soldier. Look where it got you! You're barely functional in regular society."

Ben's words cut Miles. Ben knew how to hurt him more than any other human. Miles swallowed. "Charlie's just a kid. Remember when you wanted to be a garbage collector?" Miles asked his brother in a low voice.

Ben shook his head. "This is different."

"You think I want that innocent little girl to end up a soldier?" Miles spat. "Of course I don't, Ben. But…" he fought to control his voice so the kids wouldn't hear. "Why can't you be proud of me and dad? You've always been embarrassed of us! Because we're working class, not as smart and educated as you…"

"No!" Ben said sharply. "I'm embarrassed, because Dad was a drunk. And _you're_ a drunk. You guys go off to war, and then you can't handle the consequences."

"Ben!" Rachel interjected. Miles had risen, and she could see he was emotional. When Miles got emotional he raged, and she did not want the kids to hear this argument. "Miles sit down!" she ordered. She put her hand on his arm with gentleness despite her tone of voice, and Miles sank into the couch, his face pale.

"Ben doesn't mean that," she shot Ben a withering glance. "We _are_ proud of you, but we worry about you and Bass. You guys don't think about it, but whenever you're on a tour, it's hell for us wondering if you're dead or alive." Tears flooded Rachel's clear, blue eyes. "And then you got captured and for four months, no one knew what happened to you." Her voice broke, and Ben looked like he too was fighting tears. She continued, "We do worry about the kids becoming too intrigued by the soldiers in our family, because it's so hard on all of us."

Miles' heart was pounding. He said quietly, "We'll go then. Now."

"You don't need to go now," Ben had softened his voice. His eyes were red.

Miles locked eyes with his brother. "I'm sorry," Miles said, almost not knowing what he was apologizing for, and he went upstairs to wake Bass. They left within the hour.

Miles shook off the painful memory and led the grown-up Charlie to his backpack. Then he took out something that completely floored Charlie. It was a triangle of blue material dotted with perfect, white stars.

"You have the rebel flag? You've been carrying it all this time?" she gasped.

"Not the rebel flag, Charlie. This is the flag of the United States of America. It was given to me and Ben when our father died for his service. You see, your grandfather was in the military like his father before him. Soldiering is in our blood." Miles pushed the folded flag into Charlie's hands, and she couldn't take her eyes off it. Miles continued, "I'm proud of you - of how far you've come on this trip. You lead people. You convince them of what's right, what needs to be done. And more importantly, you're a good person. You're very good! I can't understand it, how after everything you've seen and done, it hasn't changed the core of you. I'm a lot weaker than you, Charlie."

Charlie shook her head, as her eyes had filled with tears. She was so sick of herself crying on this trip that she exclaimed in frustration, "But I cry at everything!" She looked up at Miles as tears leaked out.

"Exactly!" Miles exclaimed. "You feel everything deeply. You've even helped this old, numb asshole to feel something again." Miles laughed and put his hands on his hips. "You're what these people need. So you promise me you'll do whatever you can to help rebuild this country in the right way."

She nodded and whispered, "I promise." This promise was even more daunting than the one she had made to her father on his deathbed.

Miles put his hand on Charlie's shoulder and sighed, "Dad's flag. It's yours now."

Charlie exhaled to calm herself, and the tears ceased.

"Miles, can I make one small suggestion to you?" she asked after a pause.

He nodded.

"Don't go into battle tomorrow without telling Nora how you feel."

Miles crossed his arms. This kid - she could never just let them have a moment without finding some way to get under his skin. "She knows, Charlie. I've told her before."

Charlie shook her head at him. "Tell her again. Even if she rejects you. I see how conflicted you are about my mother. Whether I like it or not - and I _don't_ - I see that there's something between you. But I spent a lot of time with you and Nora, and I never saw uncertainty in your feelings for her. That's got to mean something. If you choose her, tell her."

Charlie raised her eyebrows at him and walked back to the fire. She snuggled in between Danny and her mother, and it felt like home.

Miles stood pondering Charlie's words. Things were simpler to Charlie than they were to him. But maybe he should allow himself to see the world through Charlie's eyes for once.

He closed his eyes and again became buried in memories. The eve of battle must have been making him nostalgic. He thought of one perfect night he and Nora had spent together in the Plains when they were on the run after he'd split from the militia. They were staying in some strange little boarding house run by an old Native American woman with an impossibly long feather in her earlobe. They hadn't had a good meal in days, but this woman had cooked them up a feast of buffalo steaks and salt-crusted potatoes. They ate until their stomachs were distended and then fucked until they were breathlessly and hopelessly tangled in the sheets. They had almost forgotten what it was like to be in a real bed, and something about the scene made it feel like it was their honeymoon.

"Ow," Miles laughed, gripping his painful belly. "In retrospect, eating a whole bison right before sex…not the smartest idea our little duo has ever had." His torso dangled off the bed, blood pooling in his face.

Nora wheeled around her tangled body so that she could lay her head in his lap. "How are you hanging off the bed, Matheson? Just thinking about it makes me want to gag."

"I dunno, it's oddly soothing. Ok, ok, help me up. Soothing is giving way to vomit."

Nora pulled him up by the sheets like a marionette. She then draped herself onto his chest, threading her fingers through his chest hair. "Miles…"

"Yeah, babe." He grunted it as a statement rather than a question, like he already knew what she was going to say. But then what she said caught him completely off guard.

"This - what we have? It's all I want. I don't need anything else," Nora said simply.

Miles swallowed. Her words scared him. He had forsaken his family and replaced them with Bass, forsaken Bass and brought in Rachel, then he'd forsaken her…what did he have in store for Nora? It didn't take a genius to guess.

Miles shook off this memory. He could yield to that cycle forever, or he could listen to his niece. At one point in this crazy journey, he had found Charlie telling him what to do intolerable; now it just made sense to shut up and listen to her. Charlie and her mother, they understood feelings. He had the sense that their verbal direction had provided every moment of emotional clarity he had ever had.


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: Christmas festivities and travel have delayed this update. Hope you enjoy! Thank you for the reviews!_

* * *

"Where'd you find a cigar, Nora?" Miles asked in awe, kneeling to light it at a fire and puffing it to life in the cold, tense darkness before sunrise.

"Found it in a raid. Saved it for you. You know I don't smoke - disgusting habit." Nora grinned.

"Are you sure Johnny doesn't want it?" Miles asked snidely.

"Don't push your luck, Matheson." Nora shot Miles a filthy look.

The two old friends then leaned on a fence to observe the dawn of first light. The bombardment was about to begin.

Staring ahead, Miles said, "I don't expect you to say anything in response to this, but you deserve to hear it, so I'm going to say it. We have a lot of history together - some good and some bad. I know the bad is mostly my fault. I'm…irascible." He grinned a little and puffed on his cigar. "But I'm glad to know that when we go out there across that field and probably die, you'll be next to me. Because…I need you to be there. And I always have." He forced himself to look into her eyes despite the emotion expanding uncomfortably in his chest. Then he wandered away.

Nora watched him go and shook her head. Always, just when she was so close to letting him go… But the time had come. Enormous booms that racked her insides meant the rebel offensive had begun.

The militia immediately returned artillery fire, sending great blasts of black dirt into the air like macabre snow. Nora charged back behind the lines. There was Aaron - a belt of ammo strung across his chest, attempting to converse with a rebel soldier, who offered him a machine gun. She saw Aaron's mouth move but couldn't hear him, as if he were the star in a silent war movie. It touched her to see how far he'd come. Then there was Danny, who kissed his mother's cheek before climbing into a tank. He briefly caught Nora's eye and gave her the thumbs up. She blew him a kiss, which made him look desperately happy. Sweet kid. She really hoped he made it through this.

Charlie had only her signature crossbow slung across her back but looked cool and determined. Nora put her hand on Charlie's shoulder, and the young woman smiled at her. Miles stood nearby yelling instructions into Rachel's ear about how to use the M16 she was holding. A pause in the cannon fire and a shift in the wind, brought these words from Rachel's mouth to Nora's ears: "Let's get these bastards for Ben." Miles patted her on the back like a soldier. Nora couldn't hear what Miles said in return to Rachel, but it looked like 'Fuck yeah, Rach.' Nora smiled, because Miles was in his element. This is what he did better than anything. He looked a bit like Rambo, with several rifles slung over his shoulders, his swords, a pistol, a Bowie knife, and a cigar dangling from his lips. He caught her eye and winked.

Johnny jogged up. "Nora. Hear that? Silence. We're going in."

"Be careful, Johnny," she said earnestly and kissed him. She was scheduled to go in a later wave of troops, but Johnny had volunteered to lead one of the first platoons into the field - brave idiot that he was. Such a kind man; she really hoped he survived.

General Davies ordered out the troops across the open terrain toward the enemy, and immediately they were blasted with machine gun fire. Nora tried to follow the figure of Johnny into the smoke, but it was chaos. An enormous whipping sound from above signaled the arrival of several Blackhawks, which laid into the exposed troops below.

"God damnit! They're being mowed down!" Miles swore, reappearing next to Nora. He extinguished his cigar and angrily shoved it into his pocket. His eyes searched for General Davies. Militia tanks were rolling toward them, and Davies ordered out the rebel tanks to duel. Danny was in one of those, Nora thought to herself. Miles grasped his short hair in frustration. They were losing, and it was ugly.

"Fuck. This is a bloodbath. He doesn't know what he's doing! Look at the troops - they're sitting ducks!" Miles cried. Most of the ground troops had taken cover haphazardly all over the field, hiding behind hay bales, wagons, and small structures. Every time one tried to advance he was blasted.

"Who's commanding in the field?" Miles asked Nora desperately.

She shook her head in horror. "Some guy named Nesbit?"

Charlie approached Miles. "Miles, do something!"

Miles looked frantically at the carnage and back at Charlie and finally said, "Ok!" He ran over to General Davies and shouted at him. "I'm relieving you of command, General!" Davies' eyes were open wide, his face pale and splotchy. Instead of fighting Miles, he stepped aside without a word and went to sit against a wall, putting his head in his hands. He had broken down.

Miles came running out to the fence and yelled behind to Nora, "Christ, I don't know what any of your regiments are called. Nora, get your ass over here and help me organize this shitfest!"

Nora was next to him in a second. "Second wave is the 16th Rebel Infantry," she said.

Miles rolled his eyes, irritated at their stupid naming system, but nonetheless he shouted, "16th Rebel on me!" What looked like around 60 troops appeared, including his own family: Charlie, Rachel, and Aaron.

"Third wave?" he asked Nora.

"The 10th," she explained.

"10th Rebels!" Miles summoned. "10th: you're our covering fire - machine guns, light cannon, antiaircraft, whatever you got. Aaron that includes you and your machine gun. Antiaircraft concentrate on taking down the Blackhawks. The rest of you protect the 16th. We go out - you cover us. Then advance, cover, advance, cover. You're my flying artillery. Got it?" Miles barked.

"Yes, sir!" Some of the troops, including Aaron, barked.

At least they seemed to be taking orders, Miles thought gratefully. "16th, you're my guys. You're following me into the field." They probably didn't know any formations, so Miles said, "Listen to me. You see that red barn? We spread out and run across the field - no stopping till you make it there. See all of those soldiers hiding in the field and getting picked off? Yell at them to follow us! You can do this!"

He signaled to the 10th regiment who was laying out, preparing to fire. "Give 'em hell!" Miles ordered them. "Now!" he informed the 16th, and they were off.

Charlie was terrified but also oddly elated in the rush of battle. She was determined to keep her uncle locked in her sights. Miles was running out ahead, and she had no idea how he wasn't going down. Every time they passed by frightened rebels taking cover, Miles grabbed them by their shirts and hoisted them up or screamed at them to follow. She began to do the same, urging the soldiers onward. By some miracle they were at the red barn before she knew it. Miles grabbed her by the front of her shirt and pulled her into him to just miss a spray of bullets. Then her mother was there and Nora too. Their chests heaved.

Miles yelled to be heard above the battle. "I have no fucking idea who the officers are, so here's what we're going to do. Nora and Rachel, congratulations. I'm promoting both of you to lieutenants. Nora, you take those troops around this side, Rachel you take those around that side. We're storming the enemy lines." In a moment, they were off.

"Now us, Charlie." They led another wave of troops and hopped over a line of barbed wire directly into enemy militia. Charlie screamed as she shot a soldier running at her and then grabbed his sword, using it to hack into another man. Her face was sprayed by blood that was not her own - a brutal baptism. But now was not the time to think; it was the time to act.

* * *

Several hours later the rebels had pressed the militia back into city limits. Miles and Charlie hunkered down with some of their troops in a store with a shattered window front to regroup and lick their wounds.

"Sir?" a rebel soldier reported to Miles. "We think we've found Monroe in a house a few blocks away."

"Alright, we'll use the tanks to drive the militia out of hiding, and I'll get to Monroe. Let's take a few minutes to bandage up. We're in pretty bad shape," Miles said, looking around at his suffering comrades.

Unbelievably both Miles and Charlie were fine - not a scratch. They had no idea where Rachel and Nora were until suddenly Rachel burst in supporting Nora's weight. Nora appeared to have taken a back full of shrapnel.

"Nora!" Charlie exclaimed. Rachel helped Nora to straddle a bench, as Charlie knelt by her side.

"Let me see your back, Nora," Miles said in a crackly but kind voice. He swung his legs around behind her. She lifted up her shirt to reveal a large piece of shrapnel lodged right next to her spine as well as a additional fragments scattered across her back and onto her ribs. Miles undid Nora's bra, and she braced herself as he began to pull out the pieces and clean the damaged flesh with some alcohol and a rag handed to him by a rebel.

Miles' hands moved automatically, methodically; his brain was elsewhere, formulating plans for the next phase of attack. Miles didn't see Johnny enter the store, but he immediately felt the young man's presence, interrupting his train of thought.

"Nora! Are you?…let me do that," Johnny snapped at Miles, seeing the dangling bra straps. Miles was currently reaching around toward Nora's breast with his alcohol soaked rag. The skin was so thin there that Nora couldn't react to Johnny except to grit her teeth. Miles saw how much pain Nora was in and paused to deal with her jealous beau.

"Johnny…why can't it just be John?" Miles mumbled to himself. Then he continued louder, "Have any experience cleaning wounds like this?"

Johnny gazed at Nora's bloody back and said defiantly, "Some."

Nora tried to wheel around to look at him, but Miles held her shoulders in place. "Careful, Nora. Don't hurt yourself."

"Johnny, just let Miles finish. This is not a competition," Nora said between her teeth. She quickly grew so livid that her ire almost eclipsed her pain. Johnny stomped outside, and Miles resumed cleaning.

"Don't say anything," Nora warned in a crisp tone.

"Wasn't going to," Miles assured. "Sorry this hurts." He gently dabbed at her ribs.

When he was finished, he re-clasped Nora's bra and helped her pull down her shirt. Nora tried to reach up to refasten the hair that had tumbled out of her bun, but the pain stayed her. Miles took her leather tie from her. He smoothed her hair back and gently pulled it out of her face.

Charlie shook her head. Those two.

Without another word, Miles stood up and went outside to meet in battle the man who was once his best friend and brother.


	20. Chapter 20

_Flashback to the night before the rebel assault_

Jason was pleased to learn that his letter warning Monroe about the Georgia Federation had served its purpose. Monroe had sent a large force out to repulse the foreign invaders at the border, significantly weakening militia protection over the city. The result was that the rebels had a fighting chance to topple Monroe's regime. Jason wasn't sure how he felt about that part, but he was glad that circumstances would make it easier for him to assassinate the general.

Jason sought after his father and found him in the stables despite the late hour. It had to be at least half past three in the morning.

"Father," Jason called softly, watching Tom brush his horse.

Tom swung around, and his piercing eyes widened. "Jason…you're here. You betrayed us. How could you?" Tom stood transfixed at the sight of his son, as if he wasn't sure whether to reach out and embrace him or take a swing at him.

"No, father you're wrong. I sent that letter to the general to _warn_ him about Georgia. I saved the militia."

Tom shook his head. "You took off for months after that Matheson girl, abandoning your duties and your home. I can't trust my own son." His sturdy figure was frozen in place.

Jason was about to speak when a handful of soldiers ran up panting. One glanced at Jason with surprise but reported to Tom nonetheless.

"Sir, a huge rebel force is amassed on the outskirts of town. We have intel that they're planning on attacking at first light!" he explained breathless.

Tom snapped his head to look at his son and back at the soldiers. "Thank you, private! Dismissed."

Once the soldiers were out of sight, Tom grabbed Jason by the collar. "Did you know about this?" he hissed menacingly.

Jason tried to pull away from his father, but Tom held fast. Jason replied, "Not the exact timing. But I knew the rebels would try it. Better go warn General Monroe."

Tom said, "You're sticking with me, boy. You know how we deal with traitors in this militia."

Jason shoved his father off his coat. "I'm happy to accompany you, father," he said gruffly. He needed to get close to Monroe anyway.

As they jogged to the house where Monroe was waiting in town, several militia soldiers stopped to stare. A tall, lanky sergeant finally blocked their path.

"Out of the way, soldier!" Tom barked.

"I'm sorry, Major, but I can't let your boy pass. I have orders to shoot him on sight." The soldier drew his weapon.

In a second, Tom produced his own pistol and shot the soldier dead. Jason's mouth fell open. Apparently his father was still loyal to him, at least at a visceral level.

"Come on, son!" Tom ordered, and they jogged on.

The Nevilles reached the house and burst into the room where Monroe sat. The general looked completely unnerved; his hair was sweaty and wild. A colonel was attempting to convince Monroe to send out troops to preempt the rebel attack, but Monroe was unresponsive, staring out the window at the darkness.

Tom immediately joined in. "Sir, I've heard the same reports. My son here was undercover with the Mathesons, and he confirms that the rebels will attack at first light."

"Your son?" Monroe growled. "Your son is a traitor and must be shot." But he didn't move. It was almost like he was waiting to die.

Tom began arguing his son's case, his voice rising, while the colonel resumed his own tirade. All the while Bass just sat there staring. Jason finally heard his father's voice pierce above the din. "Do you need to be relieved of duty, sir?" Tom asked Monroe desperately.

Monroe's hand went for his gun but too late. Jason pulled Tom's pistol from its holster and shot the general in the torso. Then he shot the colonel in the head.

Tom observed his son in numb shock.

Jason mustered an even tone, "Better go lead the troops, father. The sun is about to rise. Otherwise the rebels will crush them."

"Are you coming?" Tom asked in a shaky voice.

"No," Jason said and ran. He had one thought in his head: find and protect Charlie.

* * *

_The present_

It was Tom Neville who had put together the last minute defense of Philly and done an admirable job given the circumstances. But now the rebel had infiltrated the city - had gained the upper hand.

At present, Neville was trying to collect his scattered troops and rally them in the streets. He was no expert in urban warfare and had the feeling he was probably up against a force led by none other than Miles Matheson. Odds were not Tom's favor. Miles was an experienced general - hell, he had taught Tom everything he knew. Tom asked the Lord to have mercy on himself and on his men.

Miles sent the tanks to patrol the streets, and asked the rebels to start rounding up militia. "Kill only when necessary - take as many prisoners as possible," he'd ordered. Meanwhile, he led a small group of soldiers into the house where Monroe had been sighted. He entered carefully, his rifle at the ready, but it was unnecessary. Bass was on the floor, twisted hideously in a shocking pool of scarlet blood. Bass' pale, gnarled hands grasped at a wound on his ribs. Miles dropped to the floor and listened to Bass's mouth. His breathing was very shallow and labored. The end was near.

Miles shook Bass gently. "Bass, wake up. It's Miles."

Bass opened his eyes, but they were focused somewhere distant. "Miles," he tried to smile.

"Who shot you, Bass?"

"Neville's boy," Bass strained.

Miles gathered his oldest friend in the world in his arms and lay Bass' head in his lap.

"Dying, Miles. Scared," Bass whispered.

"Don't be scared, Bass." Miles' eyes burned. His heart felt like lead. "I'm here. Just go to sleep."

Bass closed his eyes and was gone. The front door flung open, and before Miles had a chance to react, the three rebels who'd accompanied him were gunned down. Miles didn't have time to grab his weapons.

"Hands in the air, Miles Matheson," a female voice said. It was Julia Neville.

* * *

Charlie was helping some rebels to round up a number of militia who had surrendered. She and the soldiers disarmed the militia and sat them on a curb with their hands on their heads.

"Charlie!" a familiar voice called.

"Jason! Don't shoot!" she immediately instructed her companions. "He's with us," she insisted. She ran up to Jason and flung her arms around his neck. She buried her face in his scent.

Jason smiled down at her. "Hey, Charlie."

"You left without saying goodbye…" Charlie said uncertainly.

"I'm sorry. I'm not good at goodbye. But I'm here now."

"And on our side?" Charlie asked.

"On _your_ side, Charlie."

She wasn't exactly sure how to take this - something about the phrasing troubled her. But then something just beyond Jason's shoulder troubled her more.

"Rebel soldiers, lay down your arms. I have your commander: Miles Matheson," a tall blond woman with elegant features was saying. She had a sword drawn across Miles' throat and a gun slung on her shoulder. Tom Neville came running up with a group of soldiers. "I've got him, Tom," Julia said to her husband, as if the scene needed explanation.

Charlie moved instinctively toward Julia, but Julia stopped her by just pricking the skin of Miles' neck. Red blood trickled down. "I would stop there if I were you," Julia said calmly.

"Don't surrender, Charlie! I'm ready to die," Miles called, choking a little at the blade against his Adam's apple.

Jason came up alongside Charlie.

Tom called, "Jason, come and stand with your family."

Jason stared at them unmoving.

Then, seemingly from nowhere, shots rang out aimed at the Nevilles, the soldiers, and Miles. Jason grabbed Charlie and flung her into the dirt, covering her body with his own.


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N: This is the final installment of this story. Thank you so much for reading and for those who've reviewed, you really fueled this story in its length and scope. Interaction is the prize of fanfic, and I'm grateful. I hope you enjoy this last chapter!_

* * *

Charlie spat dirt out of her mouth; her head pounded from fierce impact with the ground. Jason's hands were hopelessly entangled in her hair, and it took her a moment to realize that they weren't engaged in a passionate reunion - someone had just taken aim at her uncle and Jason's parents. She felt Jason peel his body from hers and run forward, momentarily blocking her view of what lay ahead.

In a second, Charlie was up and stumbling after Jason. She saw Miles holding his jacket in a ball on Julia's upper stomach, while a shallow gash across his throat was bleeding. He also appeared to be ignoring a gunshot in his upper arm. So Miles was ok. Tom was relatively unharmed, kneeling beside Julia and lovingly talking to her.

"Julia, hold on. We'll get you help." Tom stroked her face. "We need a medic over here!" he yelled to no one in particular.

Jason crouched next to his father: "Mother." He held her hand. Charlie felt tears well up in her eyes.

Miles said urgently to Tom, "As far as I saw, no medics among the rebels. You want to go get someone in the militia?" Tom held Miles' eyes briefly, but before Tom could answer, Miles spoke again. "I'm sorry, Tom. She's dead." He released his hands and moved away, kneeling and finally cradling his own arm. Charlie came over and knelt beside her uncle, taking a cloth out of her bag and using it as a tourniquet on his bleeding arm.

"You ok?" Miles asked her, his eyes full of gratitude. She nodded. "Thank God," he said and drew her in for a hug despite his injury. She leaned against his chest, watching the Neville men grieve. Charlie was disoriented. She felt like she was swimming through gelatin, barely able to hear or see. The battle had taken its toll. She closed her eyes briefly, but when she opened them her mouth fell open in a silent scream. In what seemed like slow motion, Tom Neville strode toward her and Miles with his pistol pointed at Miles' heart.

Miles looked at him with a somber and resigned expression. He stood up and faced his enemy. "Do it, Tom. It's for the best. The rebels don't need me. You've already lost. Go on. Make the world a better place."

Charlie remained glued in position, gazing up at Tom, her eyes begging him not to do it.

"Father, no," Jason said calmly from behind him. "This has to end."

"Jason, what do you think the rebels will do with us? They'll kill every last one of us. They won't keep prisoners. Even if they try us in court, they'll make sure we suffer."

"No!" insisted Charlie. "The rebels will deal fairly with all survivors. Miles and I will make sure of it."

"And why should we trust you, Charlotte Matheson?" Tom asked, almost smiling, cocking his pistol.

"Because…Miles still loves his soldiers. The militia. Don't you Miles?" Charlie said, her voice wavering.

Miles took his eyes off the gun to look at Charlie sidelong in surprise.

Tom was also stupefied. He asked Miles, "You won't kill the surrendering forces?"

Miles thought to himself, _Charlie seems to know me better than I know myself_. But to Tom, he shook his head. "I'm no rebel, Tom. These are not my people. The militia are. I'm just sorry I let things go so wrong. For that I'm truly sorry."

Tom allowed his son take his weapon, his eyes piercing into Miles'.

Miles turned to Charlie. "I'd like to say something to the troops - I mean the rebels and the prisoners…if that's ok."

Charlie was confused about why he was asking for her permission, but she nodded.

Thirty minutes later, they had amassed a crowd of soldiers, some in ragtag fatigues the others in blue, all looking worse for the wear. They had gathered around the overgrown Liberty Bell - it's ancient crack akin to the rift in the crowd. Despite the prevailing exhaustion, the opposing sides gazed at each other in proud defiance.

Charlie saw Danny hop out of a tank and ran over to embrace him. Suddenly their mother was with them. The three gripped each other.

"Dad would be so proud of you," Rachel said to her children.

Charlie's eyes searched for Nora, and to her relief, Aaron was helping Nora to sit down amongst the victors. She saw Nora give Danny the thumbs up, and he blushed. Charlie eyed her brother - _oh boy_, she thought. She felt warm inside.

Miles wandered over, hands in pockets. "Ok Charlie, come on."

"Where are we…" she started to ask, but he was already walking away. She followed him and found herself at the front of the crowd: the citizens of the Monroe Republic. A hush fell over the masses at the appearance of the Mathesons, one aging, one just blooming.

"Soldiers…lay down your arms," Miles began. Slowly the sound of clinking weapons echoed out across the land as swords and guns hit the ground. "For those of you who don't know me: I'm Miles Matheson. I helped to build this country, but I didn't build it alone. We all played our part. Like many things built on good intentions, it went to hell."

Charlie had never seen her uncle like this before, but she knew by now he'd been a great general, so she expected he knew how to make a speech. He was electrifying indeed. She stood aside and watched enrapt. Miles dark eyes were alight with energy.

Miles continued: "Some of us have won today and some of us have lost, but we are really just one people, striving for the same thing. Justice, governance, order. We've been at war with each other for a long time. And the time has come to stop fighting. I realize that there's no reason for you to trust me or what I have to say, but let me tell you, there's a kind of wisdom in failure. I have that wisdom, because I failed you. But _you_ won't fail. From the ashes of the Monroe Republic, you'll commit to building a democracy. The United States is back. Starting now."

The rebels began cheering, and then some of the militia. Finally the entire crowd was roaring in elation. Young people, who couldn't possibly remember the United States applauded and screamed in ecstatic delight.

"Look at each other," Miles insisted, quieting them again. "Look!" They began to look from face to face. "We aren't enemies, we're friends. The United States always had an army to protect it from outside invaders and internal chaos, and this militia is an excellent, trained army. It just needs to be wielded properly by a civilian government. So I hope you," he addressed the rebel side of the crowd, "won't punish the militia as traitors. I hope you'll train them and discipline them and allow them to secure the new country, because the threats of Georgia and the Plains and Texas and California are very, very real. They will tear apart this country and colonize it if they can. And I hope all of you will do your duty to each other and vote as soon as possible. On that note, I have a proposal: elections must be held by the end of this month - as soon as you can spread the word to the far boundaries of the new republic. If you are someone who's interested in politically representing the people, then go out - make a speech the old fashioned way. Campaigns start now. Good luck."

Miles was done. He walked away, leaving the people looking stunned. Miles said tersely to Johnny, who was standing at the front of the rebels, "I'd keep the militia rounded up for now, but make sure they're fed, their wounds tended to, and that they're treated well. Make sure they know they have a place in the new democracy."

Johnny nodded, awestruck.

Charlie put her hand on Miles' shoulder. "What now?"

"Now? Go help the rebels organize elections, Charlie. You promised!" Miles reminded her. She looked about to protest, but Miles added, "My job is done."

Miles walked over to where Nora was sitting cross legged on the ground and helped her up with both hands.

On her feet Nora said, "Nice speech - " but Miles pulled her in for a tender kiss. Then he pressed her against his body and whispered in her ear: "I love you. And part of me always will."

Miles walked on past the rebels, through the city, and on and on. He kept walking until he was home in the city he loved.

* * *

**_Coda_**

_Six months later_

Miles had turned his back to pour a shot for a customer. He suddenly heard, "Can I have one of those?" a familiar female voice.

He wheeled around and smiled. "Rachel."

"Hey, stranger. How's business?" Rachel asked.

"It's good. How's Charlie?"

"She's good."

"How is she finding politics?" Miles lounged a little, his hands on the bar.

"I think she likes it, actually. I assume you voted, Miles?" Rachel asked. Miles nodded. Then Rachel continued, "She misses her uncle though. Philly's a long way away. I should know. I just walked from there," Rachel laughed, while Miles handed her a drink.

"Well, I belong here," Miles said seriously.

"You don't miss being a soldier? Sometimes I'm not sure Tom's the best general for the militia. But I guess he'll do, as long as he's kept in check." Rachel sniffed her drink and scowled at its pungency.

"Nah. I don't miss it. I miss my family though, so it's good to see you again." Miles quickly shifted from the topic of the militia, which still kept him up some nights.

"Yeah, I belong here too," Rachel agreed. "Danny decided to stay in Philly though. He's got a girlfriend! She's in the militia: Laura Brown. God, I hope he doesn't enlist."

Miles took a sip of moonshine. "Well, we come from a long line of soldiers. Can't do anything about it, Rachel. In the blood."

She shook her head. "I guess. Did I hear correctly that Aaron is actually in business with you?"

Miles nodded and laughed wickedly. "Yep. I know, I know. Poor bastard. I think most days he wants to kill me in my sleep."

Rachel giggled.

Miles' eyes suddenly went dark. "Have you heard from…"

"From Nora?" Rachel asked. She put her hand on Miles' hand on the bar, and he braced himself for painful news. Rachel's eyes were filled with compassion.

"She's pregnant, Miles. With Johnny's baby."

"Happy?"

"I think so, yeah."

He sighed and looked far off. "Good. Good for her. I'm pleased for her, I really am." Miles looked at his glass of booze and tossed it out in a slop pot.

"God, we're old, Miles. Time to let the next generation figure this bullshit out, right?" Rachel said, pouring her own booze into the pot after his. "That stuff's awful, by the way."

"Aw, come on, it's my best seller! And we are old. And tired. If I never have another swordfight as long as I live, that'd be fine by me."

She eyed him. "Do you have any work for me at this fine establishment?"

"Don't they need you in Philly to help with the pendants?"

Rachel shook her head. "For now the pendants are under lock and key, guarded by the executive twelve. If they need me, they know where to find me."

Miles scrutinized her. "Well…do you still cook? I mean, Aaron and I are terrible cooks."

Rachel nodded. "Ages and ages ago, I do believe I was considered the best cook in the Matheson clan."

"That you were. Did you ever taste my mother's casseroles? God damn, they were bad. Sometimes Ben and I would hide spoonfuls in the floral arrangements."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Gross."

Miles paused, his stooped shoulders making him appear older than his forty six years.

"Welcome home, Rachel."

"Mmm. Chicago. It smells like…" Rachel trailed off, inhaling deeply.

Miles offered with a half-hearted shrug: "Pig manure? I keep telling Bill Jespersen to keep his damn pigs out of our yard."


End file.
